UNDER 
THREE 
FLAGS 


0.  W.  PEPPE1 


SANTA     CRUZ 


Gilt  ol 
EVERETT  B.  ANDERSON 


SANTA     CRUZ 


cr 

275 


GEORGE  W.  PEPPER. 


UNDER  THREE  FLAGS; 


OR, 


THE  STORY  OF  MY  LIFE 


AS 


PREACHER,  CAPTAIN  IN  XHE  ARMY,  CHAPLAIN,  CONSUL, 


WITH 


SPEECHES    AND   INTERVIEWS. 


THE  REVEREND  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER, 

/  i// 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SHERMAN'S  CAMPAIGNS  IN  GEORGIA  AND  THE  CAROLINAS. 


CINCINNATI : 

PRINTED  FOR  THE  AUTHOR  BY  CURTS  &  JENNINGS. 

1899. 


Tf  o 


DEDICATION. 


TO   GENERAL'  JOHN    BEATTY, 

(Hitting  ;§atringa  Bank, 
(Eolumbua, 


A  born  financier,  industrious,  careful  ; 
as  a  soldier  in  battle  he  was  reliable,  brave,  and  skillful  ; 

as  a  Congressman  he  won  an  honored  name 
for  his  loyalty  to  his  friends  and  his  fearless  defense  of 

great  principles  ; 
ever  prompt  and  noble  in  his  action  as  a  refined 

and  scholarly  gentleman  ; 
of  soul  sincere  and  in  honor  clear,  — 

I  DEDICATE  THESE  RECOLLECTIONS. 

CLEVELAND,  OHIO,  JANUARY,  1899. 


Preface. 


T^HAT  was  a  beautiful  simile  of  Bacon's,  in  which  he 
*  compared  a  book  to  a  ship.  If  the  inventon  of  a 
ship,  which  carries  riches  and  commerce  from  one  part 
of  the  world  to  another,  and  consociates  the  most  remote 
regions,  is  thought  so  noble,  how  much  more  should  be 
the  book  admired,  which,  like  the  ship,  sails  over  vast 
oceans  of  time  and  brings  distant  ages  into  contact  as  the 
ship  the  most  remote  regions !  A  fine  critic  observes  that 
the  test  of  a  genuine  book  is  its  love  of  humanity.  It 
must  be  addressed  to  all  the  powers  and  faculties  of  man- 
kind. If  it  is  addressed  to  the  intellect,  it  must  make  men 
think;  if  it  is  addressed  to  the  heart,  it  must  unlock  the 
fountains  of  sincere  emotion ;  if  it  is  addressed  to  the  imag- 
ination, it  must  wrap  the  soul  in  visions  of  ideal  loveliness 
and  excellence. 

The  author  of  this  volume  pretends  to  none  of  the 
qualifications  of  authorship  thus  described;  but  he  does 
claim  to  have  given  in  the  words  of  distinguished  men 
their  opinions  and  estimates  upon  a  variety  of  subjects, 
and  to  give  his  own  reminiscences  in  words  plain  and 
truthful.  He  has  not  colored  his  phrases  with  eloquent 
and  pompous  language,  believing  that  a  noble  cause  is 
grander  than  a  kingly  throne,  and  sincerity  the  true 
scepter  of  success. 

5 


6  PREFACE. 

He  acknowledges  his  obligations  to  the  current  litera- 
ture of  the  times  which  embraced  his  early  life.  He  takes 
pleasure  in  recording  his  gratitude  to  the  Dublin  Nation, 
the  splendid  republican  journal.  It  was  to  Ireland  what 
the  Marseillaise  was  to  France — its  creed  and  its  inspira- 
tion. Some  of  its  most  brilliant  writers  became  prime 
ministers  in  Australia  and  generals  in  the  American  War 
for  the  Union.  If  we  have  helped  any  one  to  a  higher 
and  nobler  life,  we  have  our  reward,  as  refreshing  as  the 
fountains  to  captive  Israel  in  the  desert. 

GEORGE  W.  PEPPER, 
1021  EAST  MADISON  AVENUE,  ) 

,   OHIO.  J 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  I.                                            PAGE. 
MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH, 13 

CHAPTER  II. 

FAMOUS  ORATORS  HEARD  IN  COLLEGE  DAYS — PUBLIC  APPEAR- 
ANCE IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  TEMPERANCE, 37 

CHAPTER  III. 

AN  IRISH   FAMINE  —  DAYS    IN   BELFAST  —  QUEEN  VICTORIA'S 

VISITS, 53 

CHAPTER  IV. 

MARRIAGE — FIRST  YEARS  IN  AMERICA — ENTERING  THE  MIN- 
ISTRY— EXPERIENCE  AS  A  CIRCUIT  RIDER, 66 

CHAPTER  V. 

FROM    PULPIT   TO    CAMP — CHAPLAIN    AND    CAPTAIN  —  ROUGH 

SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE, 83 

CHAPTER  VI. 

RETURN  TO  WORK  IN  THE  MINISTRY — RECONSTRUCTION  IN  THE 
SOUTH  —  PASTORAL  APPOINTMENTS  —  FREDERICK  DOUG- 
LASS'S REMINISCENCES, 114 

CHAPTER  VII. 
VOYAGE  ABROAD — IRELAND  AND  ITALY  VISITED, 130 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

PASTORAL  RELATIONS  RESUMED — APPOINTMENT  AS  CONSUL  TO 

MILAN, 137 

7 


8  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX.  PAGE. 

INCIDENTS  OF  CONSULAR  LIFE — DISTINGUISHED  VISITORS,  .   .   .  150 

CHAPTER  X. 
DOMESTIC  SORROWS — A  PERSONAL  CHAPTER, 173 

CHAPTER  XI. 

TRAVELS  IN  THE  ORIENT  — FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  OF  THE  HOLY 

LAND, 181 

CHAPTER  XII. 
OTHER  COUNTRIES  AND  CITIES  VISITED — LONDON — PARIS,  .   .   .  203 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  VISIT  TO  THE  PASSION  PLAY  AT  OBERAMMERGAU  IN  1890,  .   .223 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES — MEN  KNOWN  IN  POLITICAL  LIFE  AND 

OTHER  BYWAYS, 233 

CHAPTER  XV. 

METHODIST  CAMP-MEETINGS  IN  THE  PAST, 279 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1896, 285 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
MY  COLLEAGUES  IN  THE  MINISTRY, 294 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
STRAY  LEAVES  FROM  CIVIL  WAR  PERIOD — SECRETARY  STANTON,  305 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

MEN  WHO  TOOK  PART  IN  THE  IMPEACHMENT  OF  PRESIDENT 

JOHNSON, -510 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTER  XX.  PAGE. 

GENERAI,  ROBERT  E.  LEE  AT  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  REBELLION,  .  322 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
SALMON  P.  CHASE'S  OPINIONS  OF  MEN  AND  EVENTS, 335 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

INTERVIEWS  WITH  EMINENT  MEN — WENDELL  PHILLIPS — SOME 

CHARACTERISTIC  VIEWS, 343 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
SOME  CONVERSATIONS  WITH  JAMES  G.  ELAINE, 354 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MISCELLANEOUS  PAPERS — FOUR  TYPICAL  ORATORS:  CHARLES 
SUMNER,  BISHOP  SIMPSON,  FATHER  AGOSTINO,  WILLIAM 
JENNINGS  BRYAN, 363 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

MR.  GLADSTONE  AS  AN  ORATOR,  STATESMAN,  PHILANTHROPIST, 

CHRISTIAN, 385 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

IN    THE    BRITISH    PARLIAMENT  —  JOHN    BRIGHT,     CHARLES 

STEWART  PARNELL,  JOSEPH  CHAMBERLAIN,  AND  OTHERS,  392 


10  CONTENTS. 

APPENDIX. 

PAGE. 
THE  NATIONAL  CAUSE — ITS  SANCTITY  AND  GRANDEUR,    ....  414 

DEAD  ON  THE  FIELD  OF. HONOR, 428 

THE  TRUE  GRANDEUR  OF  A  NATION, 439 

CAUSES  FOR  THANKSGIVING, 465 

RESPONSE  TO  THE  TOAST,  GEORGE  WASHINGTON  AND  ABRAHAM 

LINCOLN, 479 

REMINISCENCES  OF  GENERAL  SHERMAN, 494 

IRELAND'S  MARTYR, 518 

CARDINAL  MANNING  AND  OTHER  CELEBRITIES, 530 

A  FEW  LETTERS  REGARDING  MY  WORK  ON  THE  WAR,  EN- 
TITLED "  SHERMAN'S  MARCH  To  THE  SEA," 536 

LETTERS  FROM  MEMBERS  OF  THE  NATIONAL  COMMITTEE  OF 

THE  POLITICAL  CAMPAIGN  OF  1896, 539 


Illustrations. 


GEORGE  w.  PEPPER, frontispiece. 

PAGE. 
ROYAL  ACADEMICAL  INSTITUTION,  BELFAST, 37 

QUEEN'S  COLLEGE,  BELFAST,    . 66 

GENERAL  NELSON  A.  MILES,  .  ." 112 

SAVONAROLA, 132 

CATHEDRAL  AT  MILAN, ...  142 

HEAD  OF  CHRIST,  BY  I/EONARDO  DA  VINCI, 144 

METHODIST  CHURCH  BUILDING,  AT  ROME, 146 

DRIVE  BETWEEN  MILAN  AND  MONZA,  . 161 

ROYAL  VILLA  AT  MILAN, 168 

OFFICER  OF  THE  ITALIAN  SHARPSHOOTERS, 170 

AN  ORIENTAL  WOMAN,  EGYPT, 184 

THE  HOLY  SEPULCHER,  JERUSALEM, 190 

FOUNTAIN  OF  SWEET  WATERS,  ASIA, 201 

TOMB  OF  NAPOLEON,  AT  THE  INVALIDES, 212 

OBERAMMERGAU, 225 

JOSEPH  MEYER,  AS  CHRIST, 228 

JAMES  G.  BLAINE, 354 

WILLIAM  E.  GLADSTONE, 385 

CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL,       395 

READY  TO  DESCEND  INTO  THE  MINE 442 

CONCLUDING  ILLUSTRATION. 

I 


UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 


Chapter    I. 
MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH. 

I  AM  aware  that  the  task  I  have  undertaken  is  one  of 
moment  and  delicacy.  I  am  about  to  speak  of  the 
leading  incidents  of  a  life  that  looks  back  over  sixty  years 
to  the  spot  that  sheltered  me  in  infancy,  to  the  schools 
and  scenes  that  witnessed  my  entrance  upon  public  life, 
as  well  as  to  the  last  thirty  years,  in  which  I  have  been 
associated  with  the  debates,  the  agitations,  the  war  for 
the  Union,  and  in  many  of  the  struggles  for  the  eman- 
cipation of  the  slaves,  and  the  unity  and  perpetuity  of 
this  Republic. 

I  was  born  in  Ballinagarrick,  parish  of  -Tullylish,  near 
Gilford,  County  Down,  Ireland.  To  the  best  of  my 
knowledge,  the  date  of  my  birth  was  July  n,  1833.  My 
parents,  well-to-do  people,  ranked  high,  and  were  much 
respected.  My  father,  Nicholas  Pepper,  was  a  man  of 
sturdy  constitution,  of  good  education,  and  a  stanch 
Protestant,  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  He  was  Master 
of  the  Orange  Lodge,  which  met  in  his  house  and  in 
his  father's  house  for  over  fifty  years.  One  of  my  boyish 
amusements  was,  with  the  approval  of  my  father,  the 
gathering  of  orange-lilies,  and  building  an  orange  arch 
opposite  the  house,  to  annoy  and  vex  devout  Catholics 
upon  their  way  to  church.  Frequently  the  good  priest 
would  ride  through,  and,  hat  in  hand,  cheer  for  King 

13 


14  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

William.  This  pleased  the  Orange  boys  greatly,  and  the 
priest  and  my  father  became  warm  and  enthusiastic 
friends.  My  recollections  of  my  father  are  very  vague; 
but  I  remember  that  his  death  was  greatly  lamented. 

Laffan,  a  writer  in  a  Boston  paper,  some  years  ago, 
gave  the  history  of  the  Peppers  in  Ireland.  They  are  of 
Norman  stock,  and  can  be  traced  back  to  the  invasion 
by  John  De  Alton.  In  the  ranks  of  Richard  de  Claire, 
or  Clare,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  nicknamed  Strongbow,  were 
representatives  of  the  Pippards,  or  Peppards,  of  Devon- 
shire, England.  Camden  and,  in  our  own  time,  Dean 
Butler  credit  a  William  Peppard,  or  Peppers,  with  the 
erection  of  the  original  castle  of  Trim,  in  County  Meath. 
It  was  rebuilt  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Sir  Richard  Colt 
Hoare,  in  his  "Tour  in  Ireland,"  describes  the  decaying 
structure  as  the  only  edifice  in  the  country  worthy  the 
name  of  castle.  From  an  historical  point  of  view,  it  is 
one  of  the  most  important  buildings  in  Ireland:  several 
of  the  Anglo-Irish  Parliaments  met  there.  During  the 
intestine  wars  of  the  seventeenth  century  it  was  repeat- 
edly the  scene  of  important  actions.  It  was  dismantled 
soon  after  the  year  1640,  and  it  has  ever  since  remained 
in  a  state  of  progressive  decay. 

These  Pippards,  or  Peppers,  were  somewhat  famous 
in  Anglo-Irish  annals  as  founders  of  castles,  monasteries, 
etc.,  in  and  about  Ardee,  County  Louth,  Ralph  de  Pippard 
obtaining  a  grant  soon  after  the  invasion.  Afterwards 
he  surrendered  the  manor  to  Edward  I.  The  Pippards, 
descendants  of  Roger,  were  for  a  long  time  lords  of 
Ardee.  They  participated  in  the  famous  Irish  insurrec- 
tion of  1641,  for  which  they  incurred  the  penalty  of  the 
forfeiture  of  their  estates.  When  James  II  granted,  in 
1689,  a  charter  to  Drogheda,  Ignatius  Pepper  was  mayor, 


MEMORIES   OF  CHILDHOOD   AND    YOUTH.  15 

and  two  of  his  name  were  aldermen  and  three  were  bur- 
gesses of  the  city. 

George  Pepper,  one  of  the  earliest  editors  of  the  Bos- 
ton Pilot,  who  commenced,  but  did  not  live  to  finish,  a 
"History  of  Ireland,"  was  a  native  of  the  County  Louth. 
While  stripping  himself  of  his  own  clothing  to  cover  a 
friendless  countryman,  he  contracted  a  cokl  that  resulted 
in  fever,  and  died  in  the  prime  of  life. 

My  mother  was  married  twice,  and  after  her  second 
marriage,  to  a  Mr.  Hargrove,  I  was  placed  at  a  seminary 
in  Money  More,  County  Derry.  Here  I  studied  the  clas- 
sics, and  was  prepared  for  college.  It  was  necessary  to 
walk  three  miles  every  morning  through  a  most  beautiful 
grove.  British  scenery  affords  but  few  parallels  to  this 
part  of  Ireland.  Before  me  was  the  splendid  castle  and 
domain  of  Lord  Conyngham,  and  all  around  lay  the  cul- 
tivated estates  of  the  Drapers.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
thrilling  recollections  with  which  my  heart  was  filled  in 
daily  making  this  trip  to  the  seminary.  One  of  my  fel- 
low-students was  a  boy  named  Quinn,  who  afterwards 
became  a  distinguished  clergyman  of  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic Church.  Years  afterward,  when  I  was  lecturing  in 
Paterson,  New  Jersey,  the  chairman  was  Dr.  Quinn.  I 
told  him  of  my  former  youthful  friend.  "Yes,"  said  he, 
"that  was  my  youngest  brother."  Near  Money  More 
was  Tubbermore,  at  that  time  the  scene  of  Dr.  Alexander 
Carson's  preaching.  He  had  left  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  a  rich  congregation,  and  taken  charge  of  a  small 
Baptist  Church.  Drs.  Barnett,  Hewitt,  and  Mr.  Morgan 
were  preaching  at  that  time  at  Money  More. 

The  scenes  that  surrounded  the  place  of  my  birth 
were  very  beautiful.  I  am  proud  of  the  spot,  with  its 
verdure  springing  from  strand  to  mountain-top. 


1 6  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Through  magnificent  forests,  along  delightful  woods,  and 
over  gentle  hills,  I  used  to  walk  to  the  old  schoolhouse. 
O,  beautiful  was  the  sky  above  me,  sweet  Isle,  and  fair 
thy  emerald  bosom !  The  country  boasted  of  many  an- 
cient castles  and  delightful  landscapes,  and  here  were 
gathered  all  the  beauties  which  nature  delights  to  spread 
over  every  relic  of  the  past — ivy  and  lichen,  and  wall- 
flowers of  lovely  colors.  They  are  bedecked,  .too,  with 
"clumps  of  woodbine,  taking  the  soft  wind  upon  their 
summer  thrones." 

There  are  few  villages  in  Ireland  so  lovely,  and  cer- 
tainly none  in  the  County  of  Down  so  attractive,  as  Gil- 
ford, Ballinagarrick,  and  Moyallen.  The  latter  has  all 
the  elements  of  the  picturesque  about  it  and  within  it. 
Situated  in  a  charming  valley,  watered  by  a  small  river, 
while  scattered  about  through  it  are  the  most  charming 
homes,  decorated  by  choice  flowering  plants,  which  show, 
by  their  luxuriance  of  growth,  that  the  little  settlement  is 
sheltered  from  all  the  winds  that  blow, — the  remembrance 
of  so  sweet  a  place  comes  over  my  soul  like  the  whisper 
of  a  loving  friend,  and  suggests  to  the  devout  soul  soft 
pictures  of  the  Eternal  Home  we  pray  for  when  all  the  tu- 
mults and  storms  of  this  life  are  passed  away. 

It  has  been  beautifully  written  that  the  recollections 
of  early  scenes  come  to  the  exile  like  an  enchantment; 
that  sunbeams  break  through  the  traditions  and  inter- 
vening years.  And  here,  where  I  have  fixed  my  home; 
here,  where  my  future  has  taken  root ;  here,  where  many 
of  my  sorrows  have  been  made  bright  as  the  darkest  wave 
swells  into  luster  whilst  the  moon  looks  out  upon  it; 
here,  where  a  republican  Government  has  offered  me 
the  privileges  and  emoluments  of  citizenship, — even  here 
I  can  not  but  help  think  of  the  paths  my  childhood's 


MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  17 

footsteps  traveled  in  Ireland.  Even  here,  amid  the  roar 
of  the  Niagara  downfall  of  a  thousand  lakes  and  rivers, 
and  the  calm,  cold  sublimities  of  the  Rockies;  even  here, 
with  all  these  scenes  crowding  around  me,  the  mem- 
ories of  those  quiet  mornings  of  my  childhood  and  youth 
lure  my  fancy  backward  through  the  flight  of  years. 
Those  memories  are  to  me  life,  light,  music.  Without 
them,  my  life  were  dull,  despondent,  and  voiceless !  With 
them,  even  the  wilderness  becomes  a  garden,  and  the 
solitude  a  chorus  of  glad  voices. 

There  are  the  Mourne  Mountains,  those  giants  over- 
looking Rostrevor,  the  delightful  bathing  resort,  the  ap- 
proach to  which,  from  Newry,  lies  like  a  verdant  carpet. 
Not  far  away  is  Carlingford  Bay,  over  whose  surface  ships 
proudly  glide,  with  all  sails  set  to  woo  the  bashful  breeze. 
Upon  those  mountains  nature  erects  her  temples;  the 
breeze,  with  gentle  wing,  fans  the  face ;  the  silence  is  im- 
pressive; no  sounds  reach  the  ear  save  the  rush  of  the 
bay  and  the  hoarse  croak  of  the  raven.  And,  then,  what 
scenes  the  eye  drinks  in — the  billowy  hills,  the  green, 
wooded  slopes,  the  cloud-shadow  stealing  over  the  hills! 
Here,  amid  these  solemn  mountains,  God  speaks!  His 
hand  piled  them  up.  He  it  was  who  covered  them  with 
grass.  He  it. is  who  flings  over  all  this  sublime  scene 
the  robe  of  light,  and  has  made  all  beautiful  in  His  time ! 

Grand  as  the  south  of  Ireland  is,  the  grandeur  of 
Donegal  surpasses  it.  One  passes  successively  from 
splendor  to  splendor,  from  beauty  to  beauty.  There  is 
a  divine  loveliness  that  bathes  every  spot  of  that  en- 
chanted region.  Near  my  birthplace  was  the  river  Bann, 
a  sheet  of  water  that  flowed  through  a  long  and  pleasant 
valley,  with  the  deep  shadows  of  the  overarching  trees 
falling  upon  it.  I  have  always  loved  water ;  it  adds,  to 


1 8  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

the  vitality  of  scenery.  Without  it,  the  most  beautiful 
pictures  in  nature  are  languid  and  weak;  with  it,  the  less 
finished  works  of  the  Divine  Artist,  those  which  seem  to 
us  to  want  a  more  radiant  sky,  a  greener  soil,  or  flowers 
of  a  richer  bloom,  and  trees  of  a  statelier  growth, — even 
these  unfinished  works,  as  we  presume  to  call  them, 
blessed  with  this  purifying  element,  possess  a  charm  be- 
yond description.  I  might  speak  of  the  rare  old  build- 
ings which  line  this  river;  but 

"  Fare  ye  well,  dear  Highland  mountains, 
Valleys  green,  and  flowing  fountains; 
Where  the  silver  Bann  is  gliding, 
Thither  lies  our  way." 

A  most  charming  sheet  of  water  is  Lough  Neagh. 
It  is  thirty  miles  from  the  sea,  and  has  a  natural  fall  of 
fifty  fee*t  for  its  surplus  water.  There  is  a  legend  that 
this  famous  lake  covers  a  submerged  city,  and  that  the 
fishermen,  endowed  with  vision  more  or  less  imaginative, 
can  see  "the  round  towers  of  other  days  in  the  wave  be- 
neath them  shining."  There  is  now  a  movement  started 
to  keep  this  delightful  sheet  of  water  within  its  natural 
bounds.  Before  the  era  of  railroads  there  was  traffic  be- 
tween Lough  Neagh  and  the  sea,  and  therefore  reason 
for  locks  and  checks  to  its  natural  flow.  But  now  that 
there  are  two  railways,  there  can  be  no  reason  that  many 
thousands  of  acres  should  be  withdrawn  from  cultivation, 
in  order  that  a  few  tons  of  groceries  may  be  carried  by 
water.  Home  rule  might  accomplish  much  good  by 
drawing  the  attention  of  capitalists  to  this  mine  of  wealth, 
to  be  obtained  by  a  system  of  irrigation. 

My  mother's  name  was  Rachel  Thornburg.  She  was 
the  daughter  of  a  farmer  and  manufacturer.  Her  father 


MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  19 

was  a  Presbyterian  in  religion,  a  Liberal  in  politics,  and 
a  cultivated  gentleman.  His  sons  were  not  unknown. 
One  of  them  in  particular,  who  went  to  England,  became 
an  eminent  business  and  professional  man.  My  mother 
had  all  the  educational  advantages  of  the  time,  and  was 
a  woman  of  wide  reading,  of  refined  manners,  and  of 
patriotic  impulses.  It  was  her  great  ambition  to  make 
me  a  scholar,  and  for  this  purpose  she  early  placed  in 
my  hands  good  books,  and  sent  me  to  school  to  the  best 
teachers.  My  earliest  schoolmaster  was  a  Mr.  Stewart, 
a  Presbyterian  minister,  renowned  all  over  the  country 
for  his  erudition.  I  was  afterwards  sent  to  Money  More, 
a  charming  town  in  the  County  of  Derry,  and  studied  the 
classics — Greek  and  Latin — under  Mr.  Harkness,  a  very 
accomplished  and  well-read  man.  Here  I  spent  three 
years,  until  I  was  prepared  for  college. 

My  mother  was  desirous  that  I  should  make  a  career 
as  a  speaker,  and  hence  every  opportunity  of  hearing 
the  famous  orators — and  Ireland  had  many  of  them 
then — was  seized,  so  that  I  might  have  the  best  models. 
She  was  also  very  patriotic,  as  the  following  incident  will 
show:  I  was  on  my  way  to  school  one  morning,  when  I 
saw  an  Irish  jaunting-car,  containing  four  distinguished- 
looking  gentlemen,  strangers.  "See  here,  boy,  where  is 
Shane  Hill?"  one  of  them  called  out  to  me.  This  hill 
was  known  all  over  the  north  of  Ireland  as  a  place  of  re- 
sort for  all  the  discontented  and  rebelliously-disposed 
farmers,  \vho  complained  of  high  rents.  I  replied,  "Go  to 
Nicky  Pepper's  Cross-roads,  and  then  take  the  left  hand 
road."  I  had  scarcely  finished  when  the  one  who  had 
spoken  before,  shouted,  "And  who  is  Nicky  Pepper?" 
In  my  youthful  ignorance  I  had  thought  my  father  was 
known  to  all  the  world.  They  picked  me  up,  making  a 


20  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

captive  of  me,  and  when  we  reached  my  home,  they 
stopped  and  let  me  off.  I  told  my  mother  the  circum- 
stance, and  she  exclaimed,  with  delight:  "They  are  the 
Young  Irelanders,  going  to  the  Hill.  There  is  a  great 
meeting  there  to-day,  and  we  must  go !" 

The  gentlemen  were  entertained  with  a  luncheon. 
They  afterwards  proved  to  be  men  who  became  famous 
in  Irish  and  American  politics — Thomas  Francis 
Meagher,  Mitchell,  Doheny,  and  Richard  O'Gorman.  It 
has  been  many  years  now  since  I  listened  to  John 
Mitchell,  on  Shane  Hill,  plead  for  the  overthrow  of  the 
Caliban  abomination,  that  foulest  blot  on  European  civil- 
ization, the  heartless  landlord  aristocracy  of  Ireland;  but 
the  memory  of  it  is  clear  before  me  to-day.  The  audi- 
ence, Protestants  and  Catholics,  were  touched  by  the 
orator's  arguments,  as  though  smitten  by  the  rod  of  an 
enchanter.  The  famines  came;  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  perished  on  a  soil  soft  and  rich  as  a  mother's 
smile.  Mitchell's  soul  was  devoured  with  wrath  at  the 
sight  of  a  nation  dying,  with  plenty  in  the  land,  and  he 
fearlessly  preached  that  the  life  of  a  poor  man  was  as 
precious  as  that  of  a  lord ;  that  it  was  better  for  the  Irish 
farmer  to  fall,  musket  in  hand,  defending  his  wife  and 
babes,  than  to  die  by  famine;  that  the  only  gospel  which 
the  heavens  and  earth  preached  was,  land  for  the  land- 
less and  food  for  the  starving.  He  invoked  the  God  of 
the  oppressed,  summoned  the  people  to  arms,  and  in  a 
few  weeks  the  brave  men,  whom  the  hunger  fiend  had 
not  carried  off,  clasped  their  virgin  swords,  like  virgin 
brides,  to  their  hearts.  O'Connell's  famous  maxim,  that 
"No  liberty  was  worth  the  shedding  of  a  drop  of  blood," 
was  flung  to  the  winds  by  this  new  brotherhood  of  Young 
Irelanders. 


MEMORIES   OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  21 

Being  the  only  son,  and  my  father  dying  when  I  was 
very  young,  my  education  and  all  the  preparation  for  my 
future  devolved  upon  my  mother.  She  devoted  herself  to 
the  cultivation  of  my  mind,  and  to  giving  direction  to 
my  literary  tastes.  She  resolved,  although  the  sacrifice 
would  be  great — I  being  her  only  child — that  I  should 
have  the  full  benefit  of  a  college  education. 

My  mother  was  a  great  admirer  of  the  United  States. 
During  the  famine  year,  we  were  visiting  in  Belfast,  when 
an  American  ship — I  believe  it  was  the  Macedonia — filled 
with  provisions  for  the  starving,  dropped  its  anchor  in  the 
harbor.  It  was  a  rare  and  beautiful  sight  to  see  that  old 
war-ship,  freighted  with  Indian  meal  for  the  suffering. 
My  mother  was  deeply  moved,  and,  taking  my  hand,  she 
raised  it  towards  heaven,  and  made  me  register  a  vow 
to  God  that,  if  any  calamity  should  ever  overtake  the 
generous  American  people,  I  would  never  forget  the 
Stars  and  Stripes,  which  that  day  I  beheld  for  the  first 
time.  Though  years  have  passed  since  that  thrilling  hour, 
I  can  feel  at  this  moment  the  warm  tears  of  a  revered 
woman  falling  upon  my  head.  Yes,  like  all  Irish  women 
of  honor  and  of  principle,  she  was  a  republican,  and  the 
names  of  Washington  and  Jackson  were  always  on  her 
lips,  like  a  litany. 

Whatever  of  Irish  and  American  sympathies  I  have, 
I  owe  to  her.  The  United  States  was,  in  her  estimation, 
the  ideal  Government,  and  its  flag  the  symbol  of  freedom, 
of  independence,  of  glory.  I  love  to  think  of  my  mother, 
of  her  goodness  of  heart,  of  her  gentleness  of  disposition, 
of  her  magnanimity,  and  of  her  tender  and  assiduous  at- 
tentions to  the  poor.  The  last  time  I  ever  saw  her  alive, 
I  was  on  my  way  to  college. 

As  the  hour  drew  near  when  I  was  to  leave  the  haunts 


22  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

of  my  childhood,  what  a  sorrowful  hour  it  was !  What  a 
struggle  agitated  the  good  heart  of  my  dear  mother,  be- 
tween her  grief  at  the  parting  and  her  hopes  for  my 
future !  Though  over  fifty  years  have  passed,  it  seems  but 
yesterday,  so  swiftly  does  memory  recall  our  early  days. 
She  accompanied  me  a  part  of  the  way,  and  when  the  time 
came  for  us  to  separate,  she  embraced  me  fervently, 
saying:  "Be  a  good  boy,  be  a  good  student,  be  a  good 
Christian;  and  if  we  never  meet  again  on  earth,  we  shall 
meet  in  heaven."  I  see  her  as  she  stood  upon  the  hill, 
waving  a  farewell  adieu  to  me  with  a  white  handkerchief. 
It  was  a  farewell,  indeed;  for  when  I  returned,  in  less 
than  a  month,  there  was  no  one  on  the  hill ;  but,  instead, 
a  little  group  of  people  waiting  about  the  gate.  My 
mother  was  dead! 

"My  mother,  when  1  learned  that  thou  wert  dead — 
Say,  wert  thou  conscious  of  the  tears  I  shed? 
Hovered  thy  spirit  o'er  thy  sorrowing  son, 
Wretched  even  then — life's  journey  just  begun?" 

"  Where  thou  art  gone, 

Adieus  and  farewells  are  a  sound  unknown. 
May  I  but  meet  thee  on  that  peaceful  shore, 
The  parting  word  shall  pass  my  lips  no  more." 

We  laid  her  away  to  sleep  in  the  beauty  of  eternal 
peace  in  the  Ballinagarrick  Presbyterian  Cemetery.  May 
the  grass  be  ever  green  upon  the  sod  that  covers  the  re- 
mains of  the  best  of  mothers! 

North  Ireland  has  never  been  credited  with  the  bold 
and  picturesque  scenery  of  the  south,  yet  it  has  many 
classic  and  historic  spots.  In  wild  and  romantic  Donegal, 
where  they  say  "the  people  eat  the  potatoes,  skins  and 
all,"  is  the  old  castle  of  Raphoe,  where  Richard  Mont- 
gomery drew  the  milk  which  gave  him  nerve  to  fight  the 


MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOLTH.  23 

battle  of  Quebec.  Derry  possesses  attractions  which  have 
few  parallels.  There,  lying  at  one's  feet,  is  the  river 
Foyle,  and  all  around  the  walls  so  grandly  defended  by 
the  gallant  Walker  against  the  coward  James.  The  coun- 
trymen of  Walker  should  build  him  a  monument,  and 
carve  thereon  the  proud  sentence:  In  vita,  ad  castra;  in 
morte,  ad  astra.  ("In  life,  fighting;  in  death,  immortal.") 

The  memorable  siege  of  the  Prentice  boys  is  one  of 
the  bravest  things  in  history.  "I  envy  not,"  says  John- 
son, "those  whose  patriotis^m  does  not  burn  when  stand- 
ing on  the  plains  of  Marathon,  and  whose  soul  does  not 
grow  warm  when  wandering  round  the  ruins  of  lona." 
All  through  these  extreme  northern  counties  are  scenes 
to  be  witnessed,  such  as  neither  the  rugged  splendors 
of  the  Tyrol  nor  the  sterile  sublimities  of  the  Scottish 
Highlands  have  surpassed.  Here  is  Tyrone,  where,  an 
old  ballad  used  to  say,  "an  honest  man  never  was  known." 
This  is  the  country  where  Hugh  O'Neil,  the  splendid 
Earl  of  Tyrone,  battled  valiantly,  though  unavailingly, 
against  the  brilliant  armies  of  Elizabeth;  where  General 
James  Shields  first  saw  the  light,  and  whose  blood  after- 
wards was  poured  out  in  the  war  for  the  Union.  In  the 
neighboring  section  of  the  county  are  the  majestic  col- 
umns and  porticoes  of  the  Giant's  Causeway  on  the  coast 
of  Antrim,  against  which  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  break 
in  vain.  Within  sound  of  these  thundering  waves,  Dr. 
Adam  Clarke,  the  renowned  Methodist  commentator,  and 
McClure,  the  explorer  and  discoverer  of  the  Northwest 
Passage,  were  born. 

The  three  brothers,  George,  Henry,  and  John  Law- 
rence, were  natives  of  this  part  of  Ireland.  These  were 
the  conquerors  of  India,  adding  the  costliest  jewel  to  the 
British  crown.  It  is  told  among  the  old  residents  that 


24  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

when  Henry  was  taking  his  farewell  of  his  beloved 
mother,  she  gave  him  this  sound  advice  as  to  marriage: 
"I  know  you  do  not  like  advice,  so  I  will  not  give  you 
much;  but,  pray,  recollect  two  things — do  not  marry  a 
woman  who  had  not  a  good  mother,  and  do  not  be  too 
ready  to  speak  your  mind.  It  was  the  rock  on  which 
your  father  wrecked  his  prospects."  He  acted  on  his 
mother's  advice,  and  married  the  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished Honora  Marshall,  and  she  to  him  was 

"  Constant  as  the  Northern  star, 
Of  whose  true,  fixed  and  resting  quality 
There  is  no  fellow  in  the  firmament." 

Dungannon,  that  historic  and  patriotic  town,  is  in 
Tyrone.  The  Stewarts — Alexander  T.  and  George  H. — 
distinguished  for  their  American  enterprise  and  philan- 
thropies, were  natives  of  County  Down;  and  so  also  was 
Lord  Dufferin.  It  is  said  that  when  George  H.  Stewart 
arrived  in  New  York,  he  had  only  his  overcoat,  which  he 
sold  to  a  fellow-passenger  for  money  to  take  him  to  Phila- 
delphia. He  made  money  rapidly,  and  he  gave  with  a 
generosity  that  was  boundless.  When  he  died  and  was 
buried,  forty  ministers  whom  he  had  educated  were  his 
pall-bearers,  and  more  than  that  number  of  missionaries, 
whom  he  had  sent  to  foreign  fields,  would  have  been 
present  if  possible.  Andrew  Jackson,  and  the  ancestors 
of  William  McKinley,  the  President  of  the  United  States, 
came  from  this  part  of  Ireland. 

Religiously,  America  is  under  lasting  obligations  to 
three  Irishmen  who  were  born  and  reared  in  this  neigh- 
borhood :  Robert  Strawbridge,  the  first  preacher  of  Amer- 
ican Methodism;  Francis  McKennie,  the  founder  of 


MEMORIES   OF  CHILDHOOD   AND    YOUTH.  25 

American  Presbyterianism ;  and  Alexander  Campbell,  the 
organizer  of  the  Disciple  Church. 

The  patriotic  Irishman  takes  pride  in  remembering 
the  historical  relations  between  Ireland  and  the  United 
States.  In  this  northern  part  of  Ireland  there  are  a  thou- 
sand evidences  which  demonstrate  the  enthusiastic  sym- 
pathy of  Ulstermen  with  the  Americans.  This  was  the 
mother-home  of  the  most  famous  of  the  Jacksons,  the 
Starks;  and  the  Pennsylvania  Legion,  which  rendered 
such  distinguished  service,  in  the  Colonies,  were  mostly 
from  this  region.  An  entire  ship,  filled  with  republican 
Irishmen,  en  route  to  Washington's  help,  was  arrested 
in  Belfast  Lough.  Sparks,  in  his  "Life  and  Letters  of 
Washington,"  gives  the  whole  correspondence  between 
that  illustrious  man  and  the  Yankee  Clubs  of  Ulster. 
There  was  scarcely  a  town  where  there  was  not  one  of 
these  clubs.  Here  is  an  extract  from  an  address  of  one 
of  them  to  Washington : 

"At  an  early  period  of  the  contest  in  which  you  are  so 
gloriously  engaged,  our  sentiments  were  those  of  the 
Americans,  our  warmest  wishes  are  on  the  side  of  free- 
dom. Upon  this  happy  Revolution,  we  have  embraced 
the  first  opportunity  to  convince  you  of  our  unfeigned 
esteem.  Your  exertions  have  not  only  vindicated  the 
freedom  of  your  own  country,  but  also  have  shed  their 
benign  influence  on  this  distressed  kingdom  of  Ireland. 
To  you,  sir,  in  the  course  of  a  gracious  Providence  which, 
in  a  conspicuous  manner,  has  protected  your  person  and 
presided  in  your  councils,  do  we  acknowledge  ourselves 
indebted  for  our  late  happy  deliverance  from  as  baneful 
a  system  of  policy  as  ever  disgraced  the  rights  of  man- 
kind. With  the  sincerest  pleasure,  therefore,  we  mention 
our  congratulations  on  an  event  which  has  crowned 
America  with  sovereignty  and  independence." 


26  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

This  was  sent  from  Stewartstown,  County  of  Tyrone, 
June  7,  1789.  I  give  one  or  two  sentences  from  Wash- 
ington's reply: 

"It  is  with  unfeigned  satisfaction  I  accept  your  con- 
gratulations on  the  late  happy  and  glorious  Revolution. 
The  generous  indignation  against  the  foes  of  the  rights  of 
mankind  with  which  you  are  animated,  and  the  exalted 
sentiments  of  liberty  which  you  entertain,  are  too  conso- 
nant to  the  feelings  and  principles  of  the  citizens  of  the 
United  States  not  to  attract  their  veneration  and  esteem, 
did  not  the  affectionate  and  anxious  concern  with  which 
you  regarded  their  struggle  for  freedom  and  independ- 
ence entitle  you  to  their  most  particular  acknowledg- 
ments. If  in  the  course  of  our  successful  contest  any 
good  consequences  have  resulted  to  the  oppressed  king- 
dom of  Ireland,  it  will  afford  a,  new  source  of  happiness 
to  all  who  respect  the  interests  of  humanity. 

"GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

"Mt.  Vernon,  in  Virginia,  Jan.  20, 


The  share  which  Ireland  had  in  liberating  the  Colonies 
from  the  sway  of  England,  and  in  the  establishment  of 
the  United  States,  is  a  matter  of  history.  The  names  of 
General  Sullivan;  the  O'Briens,  who  fired  the  first  shot 
at  Machias,  in  Maine;  of  Commodore  Barry;  Charles 
Thompson,  the  secretary  of  the  first  Congress,  and  who 
read  the  Declaration  of  Independence  before  the  assem- 
bled thousands  in  Philadelphia;  the  statement  of  Lord 
Chatham  in  his  great  speech;  and  the  exclamation  of 
Lord  Mountjoy  in  the  House  of  Commons,  as  he  pointed 
his  index  finger  at  Lord  North,  "You  have  lost  America 
by  the  Irish!" 

The  people  of  Cork  raised,  by  private  subscription, 
money  to  purchase  clothes  for  the  shoeless  and  coatless 
Revolutionary  soldiers  at  Valley  Forge.  My  young  years 


MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  27 

were  spent  among  these  Yankee  sympathizers.  My  uncle, 
John  Pepper,  and  all  my  mother's  relatives — strong  Pres- 
byterians— were  republicans,  and  belonged  to  the  United 
Irishmen.  The  district  in  which  I  was  born  and  reared 
included  the  famous  rendezvous  for  the  discontented,  for 
every  protest  against  the  injustice  of  landlordism,  and  for 
anti-anythingism ;  the  name  of  the  resort  for  the  rebellious 
was  Shane  Hill.  It  was  here  that  the  notorious  Tommy 
Downshire  men  assembled.  This  was  a  kind  of  Prot- 
estant Molly  Maguireism.  They  were  bold  and  desperate 
fellows,  who  had  no  regard  for  English  legislation.  They 
used  the  torch  or  the  bullet  against  those  who  might  dis- 
obey their  mandates.  Here  is  a  specimen  of  one  of  their 
proclamations : 

TOMMY  DOWNSHIRE. 

"BRETHREN, — Oppression  calls  me  once  more  among 
you.  Having  heard  of  the  dreadful  high  rates  imposed 
upon  you,  I  warn  you  not  to  pay  more  than  ten  pence 
on  the  pound.  Any  man  giving  more,  I  will  order  him 
to  be  burned  to  the  ground.  Let  them  go  to  the  land- 
lords for  the  rest.  Be  firm  and  true,  and  I  will  mend  what 
the  landlords  are  doing  when  I  come. 

"Yours  truly,  friend  and  brother,  TOMMY. 

"Dated  at  Shane  Hill,  October,  184?" 

The  combination  of  which  Tommy  was  chief  had  been 
at  work  for  years  in  that  locality;  at  one  time  resisting 
high  rents,  and  at  another  insisting  upon  higher  wages. 
They  always  succeeded,  for  their  claims  were  just.  This 
is  a  specimen  of  their  rough  songs : 

"  It  was  on  a  summer  morning 
Bright  Phoebus  was  adorning, 
I  heard  the  bugle  horn 
Just  by  the  break  of  day. 


28  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

And  I  asked  what  made  so  much  smoke  and  fire, 
And  they  told  me  it  was  Tommy  Downshire. 

So  with  them  I  did  go  and  fight  that  day,  boys  ! 

Since  there  is  so  much  blood  to  be  shed, 
Let  every  man  fight  for  his  bread  ! 
We  are  Tommy  Downshire  from  the  Shane  Hill, 
And  always  fight  our  way,  boys  !  " 

They  did  not  stop  at  proclamations.  When  the  Eng- 
lish Government  was  shipping  grain  and  potatoes  away 
from  Ireland,  Tommy  Downshire  men  met  at  Shane  Hill, 
and  marched  in  thousands,  singing  this  song,  to  Knock 
Bridge,  on  the  River  Bawn,  and  destroyed  all  the  boats. 

The  most  numerous  and  the  most  enthusiastic  of  the 
Yankee  Clubs,  previously  referred  to,  was  established  in 
the  old  Ulster  town  of  Dungannon,  where  no  less  a  Con- 
vention than  delegates  representing  one  hundred  thou- 
sand of  the  Irish  Volunteers  met  in  1782,  in  an  old  church, 
to  debate  the  fortunes  of  a  nation.  It  is  in  this  very  town 
that  independence  is  to  be  declared  and  won!  These 
delegates  represented  the  will  of  the  people — that  su- 
preme and  unconquerable  will,  which,  when  aroused,  is 
above  the  will  of  kings,  stronger  than  the  might  of  armies, 
keener  than  the  subtleties  of  law ;  the  fountain  of  political 
authority,  the  basis  of  social  organization,  the  high  ar- 
biter of  revolutionary  change.  That  well-ordered  and 
courageous  organization  had  driven  Lord  North  from 
the  Cabinet ;  it  had  caught  the  sacred  contagion  of  Ameri- 
can liberty,  which  had  shuffled  off  a  baleful  tyranny,  had 
smitten  down  great  armies,  and  scattered  vast  fleets.  It 
had  stormed  the  administration  of  Charles  James  Fox. 

The  debate  is  opened — but  hark!  what  is  that  cry  I 
hear?  It  is  the  cheer  that  greets  the  entrance  of  Henry 
Grattan.  On  him  a  thousand  eyes  and  hopes  are  fixed. 
Harry  Flood,  the  noble  and  pure,  and  Hussey  Burgh,  the 


MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  29 

brilliant  Burgh,  are  with  him.  In  person  he  is  tall,  erect, 
and  thin;  in  mien  and  gesture  he  is  calm  and  command- 
ing. He  rises,  and  pronounces  the  most  splendid  oration 
ever  delivered.  Listen  to  this  one  sentence:  "I  have  no 
ambition  unless  it  be  to  break  your  chains  and  to  con- 
template your  glory !  I  will  never  be  satisfied  so  long  as 
the  meanest  citizen  in  Ireland  has  a  link  of  the  British 
chain  clanking  among  his  rags.  He  may  be  naked,  he 
shall  not  be  in  iron !  And  I  do  see  the  time  is  at  hand, 
the  spirit  has  gone  forth,  the  declaration  of  right  is 
planted;  and  though  great  men  should  fall  off,  yet  the 
cause  shall  live;  and  though  the  patriotic  speaker  should 
die,  yet  the  immortal  fire  shall  outlast  the  humble  organ 
who  conveys  it;  and  the  breath  of  liberty,  like  the  word 
of  the  holy  man,  will  not  die  with  the  prophet,  but  will 
survive  him."  The  orator  had  gathered  his  energies, 
which  a  heavy  illness  had  impaired,  to  the  greatest  effort 
of  his  life.  The  victory  was  won,  and  Ireland's  prosperity 
continued  to  excite  envy  and  admiration.  It  lasted  eigh- 
teen years,  and  it  was  during  this  brief  period  that  all  the 
splendid  public  buildings  of  Dublin  were  built.  One  man 
in  every  five  was  engaged  in  manufactures.  The  nobles 
spent  two  million  dollars  annually  in  Dublin.  Alas!  In 
1800  the  legislative  independence  of  Ireland  was  extin- 
guished. Then  her  woes  began.  It  was  to  this  bright 
spot  in  Irish  history  that  Washington  referred  in  his  letter 
to  the  Yankee  Clubs.  What  Independence  Hall  was  to 
the  Americans,  the  old  church  in  Dungannon  was  to  the 
Irish  people. 

The  religious  movement  of  John  Wesley  had  early 
attracted  converts  in  Ireland,  and  especially  in  Ulster, 
and  many  flourishing  societies  were  formed  during  Wes- 
ley's visits.  The  life  of  this  illustrious  man  was  divided 


30  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

between  study,  preaching,  and  the  organization  of  soci- 
eties. He  has  told  the  world,  in  his  incomparable  Jour- 
nals, of  his  frequent  visits  and  of  his  cordial  reception  by 
the  Irish  people.  In  grandeur  of  purpose,  in  a  lofty  and 
evangelic  consecration,  and  in  success,  he  stands  first 
among  the  renowned  revivalists.  Yet  this  great  man, 
with  his  matchless  genius,  author  of  a  hundred  volumes 
upon  all  subjects,  with  his  encyclical  cultivation,  did  not 
hesitate  to  preach  in  barns,  in  private  houses,  at  cross- 
roads, and  under  the  shade  of  great  trees.  Hither  he 
came,  and  preached  in  my  great-great-uncle's  field,  where 
a  class  was  formed,  and  where  it  continued  to  meet  for 
three  generations.  There  is  one  big  tree,  yet  standing, 
beneath  whose  shade  he  preached  annually,  and  where  his 
followers  meet  every  year.  I  have  preached  beneath  the 
selfsame  tree  within  a  few  years.  The  correspondent  of 
the  New  York  Witness  was  present,  and  gave  a  vivid 
account  of  this  field  service,  referring  to  the  sermon  I 
preached  in  accordance  with  the  time-honored  custom. 
In  my  uncle's  house  I  have  frequently  heard  venerable 
men  and  saintly  women  speak  of  the  father  of  Methodism. 
They  dwelt  with  rapture  upon  his  words  of  counsel,  that 
cleared  their  souls  from  doubt ;  words  of  mercy,  that  saved 
them  from  despair ;  words  of  comfort,  that  served  as  balm 
to  their  wounded  hearts.  They  would  relate  incidents  of 
his  travels,  and  speak  of  his  impressive  delivery.  Here 
are  a  few  of  the  stories  I  listened  to  in  my  childhood : 
Wesley  was  one  day  overtaken  by  robbers,  who  took  from 
him  his  gold  watch.  He  asked  them  to  remain  to  the 
services,  and  they  would  certainly  repent  some  day.  He 
preached  a  sermon  from  the  words,  "The  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin."  An  indescribable  fear 
came  over  the  thieves.  They  returned  the  watch,  bowed 


MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  31 

upon  their  knees,  and  were  converted.  He  was  preaching 
in  a  schoolhouse  on  a  very  hot  day,  and  one  of  his  hearers 
dropped  to  sleep,  and  snored  so  loud  that  he  destroyed 
the  solemnity  of  the  worship.  The  preacher  paused  in  the 
flow  of  his  oratory,  and  cried  out,  "Fire!  Fire!"  The 
sleeper  jumped  to  his  feet,  forgetting  where  he  was,  and 
asked,  "Where?  where?"  wrhen  Wesley  calmly  replied, 
"In  hell,  to  burn  people  who  sleep  under  the  preaching  of 
the  gospel." 

When  Whitefield  died— there  had  been  some  estrange- 
ment between  the  two  holy  men — a  friend  of  Wesley's 
said,  "You  will  never  see  Whitefield  in  heaven."  "No," 
was  Wesley's  reply,  "I  never  expect  to  see  him.  He  will 
be  so  near  the  throne,  and  I  will  be  so  far  off,  that  I  never 
expect  to  see  him." 

In  the  north  of  Ireland  there  are  various  ways  of 
speaking  the  English  language.  Every  county  has  its 
peculiar,  characteristics.  In  the  center  of  Ulster,  there 
are  the  clear  tones  of  Dublin!  In  the  extreme  counties 
of  Derry  and  Donegal  vibrate  the  earnest  gutturals  of 
Connaught.  Here  are  two  specimens  of  these  peculiarities 
of  speech,  of  theology,  and  art.  A  minister,  who  was  per- 
haps not  too  careful,  was  induced  to  sign  the  teetotal 
pledge.  His  health  appeared  to  suffer,  and  his  doctor 
ordered  him  to  take  a  glass  of  punch  daily.  "O,  I  dare 
not.  Peggy,  my  old  housekeeper,  would  tell  the  whole 
parish."  "When  do  you  shave?"  the  doctor  asked.  "In 
the  morning,"  was  the  answer.  "Then,"  said  the  doctor, 
"shave  at  night,  before  going  to  bed."  The  minister 
seemed  to  improve.  The  doctor  said  to  Peggy,  "I  am 
glad  your  master  is  better."  "Indeed,  sir,  he  is  better; 
but  his  brain  is  affected.  Something  is  wrong  with  his 
mind."  "How?"  "Why,  doctor,  he  used  to  shave  at 


32  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

night,  before  going  to  bed;  but  now  he  shaves  in  the 
morning;  he  shaves  before  dinner;  he  shaves  before  sup- 
per; he  gets  up  at  night  and  shaves;  he  shaves  all  the 
time!" 

A  young  minister,  who  read  his  sermon — an  abomi- 
nation in  Ulster — had  preached.  An  elder  was  asked 
what  he  thought  of  the  sermon.  "Well,  he  will  have  to 
preach  two  hours  longer  to  give  the  de'il  (devil)  a  cold 
swat,  with  that  kind  of  preaching." 

Let  us  take  a  description  of  Mister  Alaac  McCraub,  a 
Presbyterian  farmer  and  fierce  theologian,  and  the  type 
of  a  class  of  men  to  be  found,  no  doubt,  in  other  parts  of 
the  country  as  well  as  Donegal.  Riding  out  of  Letter- 
kenny  on  his  way  up  the  glen,  the  writer  and  his  friend 
encounter  Mr.  McCraub  on  the  way,  and  the  following 
conversation  ensues : 

McCraub  loquitur — "Well,  sir,  what  way  are  ye  the 
day?" 

This  is  the  common  form  of  salutation — the  quid  agis 
of  Glen  S willy  conventionalism;  then,  looking  hard  and 
rather  fiercely  at  me,  astride  as  I  was  on  a  strong  little 
hack,  he  drew  near  to  my  friend,  and  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"But  who  is  thon  boy  on  the  wee  pownie?" 

This  term  thon  is  demonstrative;  probably  composed 
of  a  union  of  the  two  words,  that  yonder.  On  being  satis- 
fied as  to  my  respectability,  he  became  familar,  conde- 
scendingly walking  by  the  rein  of  our  horses  faisant 
chemin,  as  the  French  say. 

"But  where  did  I  see  you  going  last  Sunday,  and  on 
horseback,  too,  Mr.  McCraub?"  said  my  friend.  "I 
thought  your  people  were  strict  Sabbath-keepers,  and  did 
not  forget  the  Fourth  Commandment?" 

"So  we  are — so  we  are,  sir,"  said  Alaac,  becoming 


MEMORIES   OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  33 

greatly  confused  for  a  moment ;  but,  quickly  recovering, 
he  drew  himself  up,  and  added : 

"I  was  just  going  a  mile  or  twa  to  the  lower  brae — 
not  more  than  aboot  a  Sabbath-day's  journey,  you  see — 
to  visit  my  stock,  lest  there  should  be  an  ox  or  an  ass 
fallen  into  a  pit.  Ye  ken,  gentlemen,  the  Scripthur  allows 
us  to  pull  it  out." 

On  delivering  this  piece  of  triumphant  self-justifica- 
tion, Alaac  grimly  smiled,  and  becoming  more  talkative 
than  before,  entertained  us  .with  the  account  of  a  young 
preacher  who  had  been  holding  forth  the  previous  Sab- 
bath in  the  meeting-house,  and  concerning  whose  being 
"all  right"  (they  gutturalize  the  r  most  vigorously  in  the 
word),  Alaac  had  his  ponderings. 

"Did  you  like  the  sermon?"  asked  our  friend. 

"As  a  seermun,  I  answer,  no,  sir.  It  was  only  a  wee 
bit  of  gospel  doctrine — a  sagmint  in  the  great  ceercle  of 
Chreestianity.  It  was  na'  what  we  ca'  feeding.  Man  is 
an  inquisiteeve  animal,  sir;  and  I  should  have  liked  a 
skemp  of  doctrine  on  the  Five  Points.  Na  seermun  is  a 
seermun  at  a'  that  has  not  the  Five  Points  in  its  head,  tail, 
text,  body,  soul,  and  backbone.  I  mislike  thon  preacher. 
He  's  just  come  from  Raphoe,  on  tryal  like,  and  is  a  varra 
young  man,  and  has  na  experience  for  the  elder  hearers. 
I  'm  doubting  if  he  's  oorthodox,  and  if  he  has  not  a 
touch  of  the  harracy  of  the  Armenians  in  him,  which  is 
all  as  one,  to  my  mind,  as  Papishy  itself." 

Alaac  delivered  this  last  sentence  with  singular  acri- 
mony for  so  good  a  man.  * 

"You  are  a  great  theologian,"  said  my  friend,  "quite 
a  divine,  Mr.  McCraub." 

"Just  a  wee,  sir — not  overmuch.  I  have  read  a  leetle 
on  the  soobject  whiles,  and  wrangled  it  over  wi'  the  neigh- 

3 


34  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

bors  in  the  lang  winter  nights.  I  hold  the  Five  Great 
Points  all  reight,  and  I  will  always  purtest,  as  long  as  I 
have  a  tongue  in  my  teeth,  against  Papishy,  Armennian- 
ism,  Methodyism,  and  all  other  filthy  harracies  and  hat- 
teradoxies,  to  my  life's  end." 

We  now  pushed  on,  wishing  our  polemical  friend  fare- 
well, Alaac  shouting  after  us  that  he  would  call  on  my 
friend  "for  the  fourth  valume  of  Dr.  John  Ouwen's 
[Owen's]  work  on  the  Haybrews — a  grand  writer,  and  all 
reight  on  the  Five  Points/' 

A  young  gentleman,  "fresh  from  college,  and  prepar- 
ing for  the  ministry,"  thus  describes  to  our  author  the 
aforesaid  Alaac  McCraub,  as  he  met  him  the  preceding 
Sunday  on  his  way  to  the  meeting-house : 

"His  hat  was  like  the  'Prometheus  Bound'  of  ^Eschy- 
lus,  not  having  enjoyed  a  nap  for  many  years;  and  his 
best  blue  coat,  only  donned  on  Sabbaths,  like  the  blessed 
sun,  never  seemed  to  wear  out ;  a  long  steel  chain  dangled 
from  his  fob,  supporting  a  pinchbeck  seal,  the  size  of  a 
pear.  Stiffly  and  sturdily  he  strode  along,  ten  yards  in 
advance  of  his  womankind,  his  wife,  Creusa-like,  and  his 
pretty  modest  daughter,  following  behind;  his  nose,  a 
genuine  aduncus,  fiercely  cocked  at  the  horizon;  his  feet 
turned  out  in  a  perpetual  perpetration  of  the  fifth  position, 
his  cold,  keen  eye  keeking  and  glinting  on  all  sides,  as  if 
searching  for  a  mistake  with  somebody ;  the  very  calves  of 
his  wiry  legs  looking  sharp  and  martial;  and  the  whole 
figure  and  gait  of  the  man  evidencing  the  most  prepos- 
terous self-satisfaction;  so  that,"  continued  the  young 
man,  "you  might  have  applied  to  him  Ben  Jonson's  in- 
flated description  of  Sejanus,  who 

'  At  each  step  feels  his  advanced  head 
Knock  out  a  star  in  heaven. '  " 


MEMORIES  OF  CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  35 

The  Rev.  Joseph  M was  rather  a  pompous  clergy- 
man, who  thought  more  of  himself  than  anybody  else  did. 
It  was  his  custom  to  preach  special  sermons,  on  a  set 
subject,  every  Sunday  evening  during  the  winter  season, 
which  he  termed,  with  no  small  show  of  pride,  "My 
weekly  series."  One  day,  meeting  with  an  old  tailor 
named  Tommy  Anderson,  a  member  of  his  congrega- 
tion, whom  the  Rev.  Joseph  observed  to  be  a  regular 
worshiper  at  church  during  the  course  of  "my  weekly 
series,"  but  at  no  other  time,  his  reverence  thought  he 
would  sound  Tommy  as  to  the  reason  of  his  peculiar 
attendance. 

"Well,  Tommy,"  began  his  reverence,  "how  is  it  that 
you  are  not  more  regular  in  your  attendance  at  church? 
It  is  only  when  I  preach  'my  weekly  series'  that  I  observe 
you  there.  Do  you  [here  a  self-satisfied  smile  illumined 
the  countenance  of  Joseph]  think  so  highly  of  my  series 
that  you  are  afraid  of  mixing  up  the  thread  of  my  subject 
by  listening  to  other  sermons?" 

"Aye,  that 's  it,  your  reverence,"  replied  Tommy, 
touching  his  forelock.  "Jist  it,  or  nearly  it.  Ye  see,  I 
at  times  go  to  the  Chapel  o'  Aise,  whaur  I  hear  a  guid 
soun'  sarmon,  an  hay  aye  somethin'  tay  think  aboot. 
Then,  whiles  I  go  tay  the  Cathedral,  whaur  I  like  tay 
hear  the  bishop,  wha's  sarmons  taks  ye  awa'  up  intae  the 
cloods,  then  lays  ye  doon  again  beside  a  rinnin'  strame  on 
a  summer's  day ;  an'  again  whirls  ye  awa'  amang  the  bon- 
nie  yalla  coarn  in  the  hervest,  whaur  yer  like  tay  hear 
the  bizz  o'  the  scythe  at  wark,  an'  see  the  men  an'  wemmin 
in  the  feels  gatherin'  in  the  stooks,  same  as  ye  wur  lukin' 
at  them ;  then  he  lats  ye  hear  the  blythe  song  o'  the  lark 
as  it  flees  tayword  the  sky  in  the  mornin',  and  the  whirr  o' 
the  corncrake  as  it  skims  ower  the  stibbles  or  amang  the 


36  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

coarn  in  the  gloamin' ;  he  brings  ye  tay  think  ye  can  see 
the  wee  white  flakes  o'  snaw  fallin'  in  the  weary  winter 
time,  when  a'  is  dark  aroon ;  an'  then,  as  he  Stan's  in  yon 
poopit,  wi'  his  gran'  anld  gray  heed  turned  upward,  an' 
points  awa'  ower  the  heads  o'  his  congregation,  if  ye  fol- 
low that  finger  ye  will  see  there  awa'  on  a  dreich  an'  lonely 
snaw-clad  waste,  sae  plain  dis  he  mak  it,  ye  will  see  some 
poor  bit  chap  shiverin'  an'  shakin'  as  he  plods  alang  tae 
his  journey's  en',  whaur  his  kin'ly  auld  feyther  is  waitin' 
an'  wearyin'  for  him  tay  come  tay  ^et  the  guid  things  he 
has  ready  for  him.  But  the  semplicity,  so  tay  spake,"  and 
Tommy  looked  in  the  face  of  his  reverence,  "O,  yer  sar- 
mins  is  gran' ;  there  's  nae  depth  nor  argyment  in  them, 
nor  nae  food  for  reflection ;  they  're  gran'  for  the  quality, 
an'  they  're  aye  the  wan  thing." 


Chapter    II. 

FAMOUS    ORATORS    HEARD  IN  COLLEGE   DAYS- 
PUBLIC  APPEARANCE  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF 
TEMPERANCE. 

IT  was  in  1851  that  I  became  a  student  in  the  college 
of  Belfast,  better  known  as  the  Royal  Academical  In- 
stitution, where  many  of  the  most  distinguished  and  fa- 
mous Irish  judges,  lawyers,  and  preachers  were  educated. 
I  was  overjoyed  when,  for  the  first  time,  I  saw  the  north- 
ern Athens,  the  Manchester  of  Ireland — Belfast.  The 
morning  of  my  arrival  was  one  of  the  fairest  of  mornings. 
There  was  a  soft  brightness  in  the  sky,  a  delicious  scent 
upon  the  meadow-lands,  and  the  bleach  greens,  which 
cover  the  country  for  miles  as  you  approach  the  city,  were 
sweet  and  fragrant.  There  was  the  old  patriotic  Cave 
Hill,  sacred  to  the  memories  of  Tone  and  Russell  and  the 
United  Irishmen  of  1798;  the  spacious  streets — every- 
thing was  charming.  The  country  from  Lurgan,  through 
Lisburn  and  thence  to  Belfast,  was  beautiful.  There  is 
a  vast  difference  between  Belfast  and  Dublin.  The  former 
is  all  business;  while  Dublin,  like  Venice  in  her  faded 
garments  of  beauty,  has  fallen  asleep  in  the  shadow  of 
her  domes  and  columns,  and  dimly  dreams  of  the  days  of 
her  revels,  her  old  Parliament,  the  days  when  she  sat,  not 
as  a  begging  mendicant,  but  as  a  queen  among  the  civic- 
crowned  sisterhood  of  Europe. 

It  has  been  well  said  by  a  Scotch  writer  that  Belfast 
is  so  like  Scotland  that  the  Scotchman  can  scarcely 
realize  that  he  has  left  the  banks  of  the  Clyde.  He  has 
left  a  canny  race,  thrifty  and  industrious,  with  thriving 

37 


38  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

manufactories  and  tall  chimneys,  in  the  midst  of  lovely 
scenery,  behind,  and  having  run  across  the  sea,  finds  him- 
self in  a  somewhat  warmer  climate,  amid  more  pleasing 
scenery,  and  surrounded  with  the  same  thrifty  people,  the 
same  short  and  decisive  speech,  the  same  tall  smoke- 
stacks, and  half  a  dozen  large,  prosperous,  newly-built 
towns,  with  their  gorgeous  outlying  villas,  and  looking 
as  if  they,  too,  had  stepped  over  to  visit  their  Irish  neigh- 
bors. Belfast,  Lisburn,  Antrim,  Lurgan,  Banbridge,  Gil- 
ford, are  now  busy  centers  of  commercial  life,  engaging 
men,  women,  and  children  in  a  race  for  wealth  and 
progress. 

Belfast  at  that  time  was  rich  in  the  number  and  variety 
of  her  gifted  pulpit  and  forensic  orators,  and  it  was  my 
privilege  to  hear  the  finest  and  most  cultivated  preachers 
of  the  day.  I  had  always  an  admiration  for  good  speak- 
ing, and,  when  a  child,  my  mother  fostered  this  passion 
by  taking  me  long  distances  to  hear  famous  speakers. 

"The  powers  of.  eloquence  can  charm  the  soul, 
Inspire  the  virtuous,  and  the  bad  control ; 
Can  raise  the  passions,  and  the  rage  can  still, 

And  mold  a  mob  to  one  man's  will." 

i 

Dr.  Henry  Cooke  was  the  great  preacher  of  the  Pres- 
byterians. In  point  of  earnestness  and  powerful  elo- 
quence, he  was  superior  to  all  others.  Daniel  McAfee 
was  at  this  time  the  idol  of  the  Methodists,  and  was  noted 
for  his  originality  and  fearlessness.  Isaac  Nelson  was 
a  strong  man  and  a  patriot.  When  bigotry  smashed  the 
windows  of  his  houses,  he  never  repaired  them,  prefer- 
ring to  leave  them  as  monuments  of  Orange  intolerance. 
John  Scott  Porter,  a  Unitarian,  possessed  a  clear  and 
beautiful  style.  If  Cooke  was  the  Demosthenes  of  Irish 
eloquence,  Scott  Porter  was  the  Cicero.  Drs.  Edgar  and 


FAMOUS  ORATORS.  39 

Morgan,  William  Johnston,  and  Hugh  Hanna  were  all 
attractive  orators. 

"Tommy  Toye,"  the  Presbyterian  minister  of  York 
Street,  was  widely  known  for  his  eccentricities.  He  was 
a  Southern  man,  and  spoke  with  a  most  charming  brogue. 
He  was  known  all  over  the  city  for  his  devotional  habits, 
for  his  pungent  sermons,  and  for  his  quaint  and  humorous 
sayings.  In  one  of  his  sermons  he  said:  "My  brethren, 
your  piety  is  very  pretty,  it  is  beautiful  to  look  at ;  but  it 
is  as  cold  and  as  wanting  in  fragrance  as  the  artificial 
flowers  in  Hardy's  window  in  High  Street."  Another 
time  he  illustrated  his  sermon  with  this  incident:  "My 
wife  and  I  were  going  through  Bridge  Street  the  other 
day,  and  we  saw  a  very  pretty  handkerchief  in  Kyle's 
shop-window.  Jane  said,  'It  is  a  very  pretty  handker- 
chief, Tom.'  'It  is/  said  I;  'we  will  go  in  and  buy  it.' 
'You  are  a  fool/  said  Jane;  'because  it  is  silk  weft  and 
cotton  warp.'  Brethren,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  cotton 
warp  in  your  Christianity!"  He  called  one  day  to  see 
one  of  his  parishioners,  and  found  her  reading  "Robinson 
Crusoe."  "You  are  going  to  hell,"  said  the  preacher, 
"I  '11  make  you  a  subject  of  special  prayer.''  "O  no,  Mr. 
Toye;  you  will  not  do  that;  you  will  not  take  away  my 
character!"  exclaimed  the  woman,  bursting  into  tears. 
"I  '11  make  you  the  subject  of  special  prayer,"  repeated 
Mr.  Toye.  "O,  what  is  this  that  has  come  over  me! 
You  will  ruin  me !  I  'm  the  mother  of  six  children,  and 
the  like  of  this  never  came  across  me  afore."  Finding 
he  could  not  quiet  her,  Mr.  Toye  left,  and  soon  after  her 
husband  came,  and  finding  her  wringing  her  hands  in  un- 
controllable grief,  asked  the  cause.  "O,  Mr.  Toye  will 
ruin  me !  He  is  going  to  take  away  my  character !  He 
says  he  will  make  me  the  subject  of  special  prayer!" 


40  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

"Well,"  said  the  husband,  striking  the  table  with  his  fist, 
"if  he  does  that,  I  '11  indict  him." 

I  remember  hearing  in  my  youth  the  following  story 
of  a  Church  of  England  clergyman :  The  rector  was  an 
aristocrat,  and  very  haughty  in  his  manners.  One  Sun- 
day he  referred  to  himself  in  a  lordly  way,  telling  of  the 
great  men  in  his  family.  The  poorer  members  were 
offended.  The  curate,  who  was  democratic  and  simple 
in  his  life,  was  very  indignant,  and  vented  his  indigna- 
tion in  words  heard  by  many  of  the  congregation :  "Such 
flunkeyism  is  intolerable,  but  I  will  administer  an  anti- 
dote next  Sunday!  Like  Herod's  worms,  the  rector's 
pride  is  eating  him  up."  The  following  Sunday  the  curate 
carried  out  his  threat.  He  took  for  his  text  the  third 
chapter  of  Luke,  part  of  the  twenty-third,  and  the  whole 
of  the  verses  between  that  and  the  thirty-ninth,  in  which 
he  found  the  following  words :  "Joseph,  which  was  the  son 
of  Heli,"  and  ending  with  "which  was  the  son  of  Enos, 
which  was  the  son  of  Seth,  which  was  the  son  of  Adam, 
which  was  the  son  of  God."  Every  one  is  familiar  with 
the  peculiar  and  strange  effect  produced  by  the  repetition 
of  a  single  phrase,  such  as  "Which  was  the  son  of."  The 
people  were  bewildered,  and  the  rector  looked  confounded. 
He  thought  the  curate  had  gone  mad;  but  there  was 
method  in  his  madness.  He  ingeniously  evolved  from 
these  sixteen  verses  a  discourse  that  might  have  served 
as  an  essay  on  the  French  motto,  Liberty,  Equality,  Fra- 
ternity. "Here,"  said  he,  "we  have  a  genealogical  tree, 
not  traced  by  the  flattery  of  sycophants,  but  by  the  evan- 
gelist, whose  inspiration  enabled  him  to  mount  from 
branch  to  branch — a  genealogy  beginning  with  God,  and 
ending  with  a  poor  Galilean  Carpenter.  Here  is  a  les- 
son and  a  rebuke  for  the  pride  of  descent.  The  poorest 


FAMOUS  ORATORS.  41 

carpenter  in  the  poorest  village  in  Ireland  can  trace  his 
line  through  the  same  unbroken  succession;  and  the 
proudest  peer  can  do  no  more,  unless,  in  his  presumption, 
he  should  be  disposed  to  ignore  his  divine  origin.  But 
it  would  be  of  no  use.  By  whatever  branch,  they  arrive 
at  the  same  root.  Here,"  he  continued,  looking  at  the 
rector,  "here  we  all  meet  on  equal  terms.  Disown  them 
as  we  like  in  other  degrees,  here  we  are  brought  face  to 
face  with,  and  can  not  refuse  to  acknowledge,  our  poor 
relations." 

There  were  many  other  distinguished  divines  and 
political  orators.  Hugh  McNeil,  of  Liverpool,  made  an- 
nual visits  to  his  native  city,  preaching  in  St.  Ann's 
Church,  where  he  shed  the  light  and  beauty  of  his  imag- 
inative eloquence  upon  his  own  land  and  that  of  his  adop- 
tion. As  a  reader  he  had  no  equal.  There  frequently, 
also,  was  heard  the  fearless  and  brilliant  Thomas  Maguire, 
a  Catholic  priest,  who  was,  without  exception,  the  best 
debater  his  Church  ever  produced  in  Ireland. 

There  I  heard  Chalmers,  Guthrie,  and  D'Aubigne, 
the  historian  of  the  Reformation.  There  was  Whiteside, 
afterwards  Lord  Chancellor  of  England.  I  honored  his 
great  qualities  of  mind,  and  was  delighted  by  his  eloquent 
speeches,  poured  forth  in  language  of  thrilling  beauty 
and  strength.  He  was  among  the  brightest  of  the  peer- 
less list  of  Irish  orators  who  have  illumined  the  British 
Senate. 

Chalmers,  despite  his  monotonous  and  hesitating 
action,  his  husky  voice,  and  slavery  to  a  manuscript,  when 
fairly  aroused,  could  touch  with  a  wizard's  skill  the  Pres- 
byterian heart,  and  set  its  pulsations  beating  with  a  higher 
and  firmer  throb.  He  never  raised  his  eyes  from  the 
paper;  but  his  intensity  of  feeling,  the  grandeur  of  his 


42  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS, 

thoughts,  swept  everything  before  him.  How  his  splen- 
did mind  kindled  the  fires  as  he  described  the  progress 
and  triumphs  of  his  beloved  Free  Church !  Guthrie,  an- 
other Scotch  minister,  was  the  very  opposite  of  Chalmers 
in  style  and  delivery.  His  sermons  were  pictorial,  his 
manners  entirely  free,  his  bold  spirit  was  not  curbed  and 
bound  down  by  servile  adherence  to  a  written  composi- 
tion. The  discourse  was  crowded  with  passages  of  bril- 
liant and  impressive  beauty. 

During  the  time  I  was  at  college,  there  were  three 
men  visited  Belfast  whose  burning  words  found  a  ready 
entrance  into  the  hearts  and  stirred  the  sympathies  of 
tens  of  thousands  of  the  British  public.  These  men  were 
Gavazzi,  John  B.  Gough,  and  Kossuth.  The  swarthy 
Italian,  the  American,  and  the  eloquent  Hungarian 
swayed  the  masses  at  will.  The  first  shook  to  its  foun- 
dations Ultramontanism;  the  second  smote  on  the  head 
the  Goliath  of  intemperance;  while  the  third  conducted 
the  lightning  of  public  indignation  to  the  heart  of  Con- 
tinental despotism.  Pio  Nono  had  but  little  affection 
for  the  first ;  the  second  was  at  a  discount  with  the  saloons ; 
and  the  Austrian  emperor  hated  the  third.  Mr  Gough, 
in  one  of  his  Glasgow  lectures,  had  spoken  disparagingly 
of  the  Maine  Law.  I  replied  to  him,  supporting  my  refu- 
tations of  his  utterances  by  quotations  from  eminent  men 
in  Maine  and  all  over  the  United  States. 

Among  the  bright  host  of  men  who  had  shed  luster 
upon  their  day  and  contributed  to  the  march  and  progress 
of  Ireland,  no  name  shines  brighter  than  Father  Mathew, 
who  was  then  engaged  in  the  noble  struggle  against  in- 
temperance. I  was  a  boy  when  Father  Mathew  came 
to  Banbridge.  Though  he  was  then  fifty  years  old,  he 
was  the  picture  of  health,  straight  and  erect  as  a  man 


FAMOUS  ORATORS.  43 

of  twenty-five.  His  hair  was  black  as  the  raven's  wing; 
his  nose,  Roman;  his  mouth,  well  chiseled.  In  his  soft 
though  animated  blue  eyes  there  was  a  sweet,  intelligent, 
and  benign  expression.  His  dress  was  plain  and  scru- 
pulously neat.  Father  Mathew  was  a  speaker  endowed 
with  that  fervid  eloquence  which  reaches  the  heart.  He 
raised  a  rampart  of  statistics  in  relation  to  the  effects  of 
intemperance  upon  the  nation,  and  then  illustrated  it 
with  his  convincing  and  practical  appeals.  He  'gave  a 
powerful  and  graphic  exposition  of  the  effects  of  drunken- 
ness upon  the  home,  upon  the  wife,  upon  the  children. 
His  tour  through  Ulster  was  triumphal.  At  his  approach, 
the  habitual  toper  became  sober  and  pledged  to  absti- 
nence; the  saloon-keepers  relinquished  their  traffic.  Hav- 
ing conquered  intemperance  in  Ireland,  five  million  hav- 
ing taken  the  teetotal  pledge  from  his  hands,  like  another 
Alexander,  he  was  not  satisfied,  but  came  to  the  United 
States  in  search  of  new  conquests.  Had  there  been  some 
law  to  help  these  people  to  keep  their  pledge,  the  good 
would  have  been  incalculable.  Father  Mathew,  in  a  let- 
ter published  in  this  volume,  refers  to  this. 

I  was  destined  for  the  bar.  Ireland  had  at  that  time 
the  most  distinguished  lawyers  in  the  three  kingdoms. 
The  bar  possessed,  in  fact,  all  the  learning  and  all  the 
scholarship  arid  all  the  eloquence  of  the  country.  I  passed 
honorably  through  my  examinations  at  college,  and  was 
soon  elected  a  member  of  the  debating  society.  I  was 
called  upon  for  addresses,  and  early  discovered  a  passion 
for  oratory.  I  was  not  hampered  by  the  lack  of  money; 
for  my  father  had  left  me  a  freehold  estate  and  other  lands, 
which  yielded  a  handsome  income,  and,  added  to  this, 
a  kind  uncle  was  most  generous  in  his  gifts.  I  was  there- 
fore not  disturbed  or  bewildered  in  my  studies  by  those 


44  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

fears  which  often  haunt  the  midnight  vigils  of  students. 
My  sole  ambition  was  to  acquire  an  honorable  livelihood 
and  a  worthy  fame  by  pleading  the  wrongs  of  the  poor, 
by  vindicating  the  injured,  by  redressing  the  injustices 
of  society.  I  felt  in  so  doing  I  would  be  walking  in  the 
footsteps  of  the  eminent  philanthropists  of  the  time. 

To  prepare  myself  for  the  profession  chosen,  I  de- 
voured every  book  that  came  within  my  grasp,  studied 
every  department  of  knowledge,  and,  in  feeble  imitation 
of  Lord  Bacon,  took  all  learning  within  my  province. 
To  acquire  a  graceful  attitude  in  declamation,  I  took 
lessons  from  James  Sheridan  Knowles,  the  professor  of 
elocution,  known  throughout  the  world  as  the  author 
of  the  "Hunchback"  and  "Virginius."  He  was  a  de- 
lightful old  man  at  that  time,  and  students  came  from 
all  parts  of  the  empire  to  study  under  him.  In  his  old 
age,  he  renounced  all  the  honors  and  emoluments  of  his 
profession,  and  became  a  humble  Baptist  minister  in 
England. 

To  have  even  a  surface  knowledge  of  metaphysics, 
I  read  over  the  Scotch  and  German  writers.  Jonathan 
Edwards  was  also  a  favorite  with  me.  As  public  speak- 
ing was  to  be  my  profession,  I  committed  whole  pages 
of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero,  among  the  ancients,  and 
Pitt,  Fox,  Webster,  Grattan,  and  Curran,  among  the 
moderns.  My  habit,  after  memorizing  a  part  of  an  ora- 
tion, was  to  declaim  it  in  my  room,  much  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  my  landlady  and  her  family.  Having  never  had 
an  opportunity,  up  to  this  time,  of  trying  my  oratorical 
ability  before  a  promiscuous  audience,  I  longed  for  such 
an  occasion.  I  became  a  member  of  the  Rechabite  Order, 
which  was  rigidly  temperance.  It  had  its  origin  among 
a  sect  of  the  ancient  Jews.  They  drank  no  wine,  and 


FAMOUS  ORATORS.  45 

possessed  neither  vineyard  nor  field,  but,  like  the  Arabs, 
dwelt  in  tents.  I  saw  them  in  my  travels  in  Palestine 
a  few  years  ago.  They  believe  and  obey  the  law  of  Moses, 
by  tradition;  for  they  do  not  possess  the  written  law. 
John  Scott,  a  venerable  linen  merchant,  was  the  president, 
and  Alexander  Riddle  the  secretary  of  the  Rechabite 
Order  in  Belfast.  The  president  invited  me  to  deliver 
the  address  at  one  of  the  installation  ceremonies,  and  I 
gladly  accepted,  saying  to  myself,  "Now,  here  is  the  op- 
portunity to  become  famous."  I  spent  weeks  in  the 
preparation  of  the  address.  My  first  part  was  an  exor- 
dium, beginning:  "This  is  a  brilliant  and  beautiful  scene, 
Here  are  assembled,  under  the  white  banner  of  temper- 
ance, brave  men  and  fair  women  of  Belfast !"  With  much 
self-elation  I  repeated  these  sentences  several  times, 
and  then  finally  concluded  they  were  too  common.  After 
several  more  efforts,  I  resolved  that  the  exordium  should 
commence :  "An  angel,  in  his  flight  over  the  globe,  could 
not  behold  a  more  beautiful  and  benevolent  organiza- 
tion than  this  which  to-night  meets  within  this  splendid 
temple — an  organization  in  sympathy  with  that  Divine 
Character  who  walked  over  earth  with  the  grandeur  of 
God,  and  whose  whole  life  is  condensed  in  the  brief  sen- 
tence, 'He  went  about  doing  good.'  No  higher  honor 
could  be  conferred  upon  me,  and  no  prouder  emotion 
could  swell  my  heart  than,"  etc.  The  eventful  hour  came. 
The  house  was  full,  and  the  galleries  were  crowded  with 
Belfast  beauties,  whose  bright  eyes  rendered  me  very 
uncomfortable,  as  their  sparkling  glances  turned  in  my 
direction.  When  the  chairman  introduced  me,  I  was 
greeted  with  an  ovation.  I  trembled  like  a  leaf.  The 
first  sentence  was  all  that  I  could  recall,  and  when  I  came 
to  the  words  "No  higher  honor,"  I  repeated  them  several 


46  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

times — "No  higher  honor" — everthing  else  was  for- 
gotten, and  I  felt  the  cold  chills  running  down  my  back.  If 
the  earth  had  only  opened  and  swallowed  me  up,  it  would 
have  been  a  blessed  relief.  To  add  to  my  embarrassment, 
several  voices  cried  out,  "Hear!  hear!"  But  there  was 
nothing  to  hear. 

The  papers  announced  next  day  that  "the  young 
orator,  George  W.  Pepper,  who,  from  nervous  exhaus- 
tion, was  unable  to  finish  what  promised  to  be  a  grand  ad- 
dress last  night,  is,  we  are  happy  to  say,  recovering,  and 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  many  years  of  usefulness  are  before 
him." 

I  was  very  much  in  the  same  position  as  the  speaker 
so  aptly  described  by  Lord  Derby:  "He  gets  up,  without 
the  least  notion  of  what  he  is  going  to  say;  he  speaks, 
without  the  least  notion  of  what  he  is  saying;  and  he  sits 
down,  without  the  least  notion  of  what  he  has  said.  Lan- 
guage had  command  of  him,  and  not  he  of  language." 

It  was  in  Belfast  that  I  united  with  the  Wesleyan 
Methodist  Church,  under  the  ministrations  of  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Ballarcl  and  John  Oliver,  two  excellent  preach- 
ers. The  Maine  Law  was  becoming  a  subject  of  popular 
discussion,  and  I  wrote  to  Neal  Dow  for  an  abstract  of 
the  law.  I  then  sent  a  series  of  letters  to  the  Belfast  news- 
papers, in  which  the  prohibition  of  the  liquor-traffic  was 
defended  and  demanded  for  Ireland.  The  letters  pro- 
voked much  controversy.  The  editor  of  the  Northern 
Whig,  in  an  editorial,  pronounced  it  absurd,  and  called 
it  the  "morality  of  the  stick."  The  excitement  grew. 
The  first  meeting  was  to  be  held  in  Manchester.  I  went 
as  a  delegate,  being  then  only  nineteen  years  old,  and 
the  youngest  delegate  there.  It  was  a  great  meeting — 


FAMOUS   ORATORS.  47 

great  in  numbers,  great  in  enthusiasm,  and  great  in  de- 
termination. 

I  met  there  many  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  English 
reformers  and  philathropists.  Among  them  was  James 
Silk  Buckingham,  a  member  of  Parliament,  a  world-re- 
nowned traveler,  and  a  true  gentleman. 

There,  also,  was  the  scholarly  and  gifted  writer  upon 
philosophy  and  ethics,  Dr.  Lees.  This  was  my  first  intro- 
duction to  the  English  people.  Their  hospitality,  their 
refreshing  candor,  and  their  love  of  all  that  was  best  for 
the  interests  of  humanity,  impressed  me  most  favorably. 
Buckingham's  speech  was  the  most  effective.  His  style 
was  clear  and  thoughtful,  his  delivery  pleasing,  and  the 
modulation  of  his  voice  was  well  trained  and  agreeable. 
Dr.  Heywood,  a  clergyman  of  the  city,  acquitted  himself 
well,  and  showed  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  subject. 
Dr.  Lee's  speech  was  logical,  and  was  distinguished  by 
the  peculiar  'terseness  of  his  language,  and  the  strong 
tone  of  common  sense  which  was  its  leading  character- 
istic. Dr.  Jabez  Burns  delivered  a  happy  address. 

Upon  my  return,  after  consulting  with  prominent 
clergymen  and  others  who  were  well  known  to  be  favor- 
ably disposed,  I  appealed,  through  the  press,  for  a  public 
meeting  to  be  held  in  the  interests  of  this  new  organiza- 
tion, the  United  Kingdom  Alliance.  There  was  much 
opposition.  Some  of  the  old  temperance  workers  were 
timid  and  fearful  of  any  new  movement,  especially  as  it 
came  from  the  United  States.  However,  after  much  de- 
lay, a  meeting  was  arranged.  I  corresponded  with  sev- 
eral prominent  philanthropists,  asking  them  to  be  pres- 
ent. The  meeting  took  place  in  Music  Hall,  the  largest 
building  in  the  city.  The  audience  embraced  nearly  all 


48  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

the  pious  and  wealthy  people  of  Belfast.  It  was  a  grand 
display  of  the  Bench,  the  Bar,  the  Church.  Young  and 
Old  Ireland,  Catholics  and  Protestants,  shook  hands,  and 
looked  hopeful  for  the  prosperity  of  Ireland.  The  large 
room  was  tastefully  decorated  with  banners,  bearing  in- 
scriptions applicable  to  the  occasion.  The  speeches  were 
marked  with  great  fervor,  energy,  and  eloquence.  The 
most  convincing  speech  was  made  by  Dr.  Lees.  There 
was  scarcely  an  interruption,  except  when  some  cutting 
sarcasm  was  uttered,  with  a  seemingly  careless  but  watch- 
ful comment  upon  the  newspapers  of  Belfast  which  were 
sneering  at  the  meeting,  or  some  beautiful  apostrophe 
to  the  memory  of  Ireland's  illustrious  dead  or  her  living 
leaders.  Then  peals  of  spontaneous  applause  would  greet 
the  utterance.  Years  after,  Dr.  Lees  was  my  guest  at 
Wellington,  Ohio,  when  he  lectured  in  my  church,  and 
when  old  memories  were  revived. 

There  wrere  present  from  Dublin  two  of  its  citizens, 
James  Haughton  and  Richard  Allen,  who  were  listened 
to  with  great  and  evident  satisfaction.  Among  those 
who  aided  me  in  the  organization  of  this  great  meeting 
were  John  R.  Neal,  a  Unitarian  gentleman,  and  Gordon 
Thompson,  a  Wesleyan  magistrate.  Belfast  was  the  first 
city  in  Ireland  to  celebrate  the  formation  of  the  Alliance. 
In  a  short  time  others  followed.  The  following  letter, 
which  Father  Mathew  had  written  to  me,  was  read : 

"CoRK,  January  14,  1854. 

"MY  DEAR  YOUNG  FRIEND, — The  question  of  prohi- 
bition of  the  sale  of  ardent  spirits,  and  the  many  other 
intoxicating  drinks  which  are  to  be  found  in  our  country, 
is  not  new  to  me.  The  principle  of  prohibition  seems  to 
be  the  only  safe  and  certain  remedy  for  the  evils  of  intem- 
perance. This  opinion  has  been  strengthened  by  the  hard 


FAMOUS  ORATORS.  49 

labor  of  more  than  twenty  years  in  the  temperance  cause. 
I  rejoice  in  the  welcome  intelligence  of  the  formation  of  a 
Maine  Law  Alliance,  which  I  trust  will  be  the  means, 
under  God,  of  destroying  the  fruitful  source  of  so  much 
crime.  Allow  me  to  thank  you  for  your  earnest  and  in- 
defatigable labors  in  this  present  movement. 

"Yours  very  truly,  THEOBALD  MATHEW." 

The  next  year  a  controversy  sprang  up  between  the 
Belfast  News-Letter  and  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Simpson, 
moderator  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  as  to  the  one 
who  recommended  for  Ireland  the  Maine  Law.  Dr. 
Simpson  claimed  that  he  had  been  in  the  United  States, 
and  that  after  his  return  he  gave  his  experiences  of  the 
workings  of  the  law.  This  was  sharply  controverted  by 
the  News-Letter,  and  it  called  for  the  evidences.  It  boldly 
charged  that  he  was  a  plagiarist;  that  he  never  wrote, 
never  spoke  a  word  upon  the  subject  until  after  I  had 
written  for  a  whole  year,  and  until  after  the  Belfast  meet- 
ing. It  is  of  no  importance ;  but  let  all  classes  go  on  with 
their  work,  and  they  will  achieve  what  no  statutes  of  the 
Legislature,  no  scheme  of  reform  in  the  hands  of  poli- 
ticians, could  ever  achieve.  Let  Ireland  become  temper- 
ate, then  she  will  be  truly 

"  Great,  glorious,  and  free  : 
First  flower  of  the  earth, 
And  first  '  gem  of  the  sea.'  " 

I  remember  the  annual  visits  of  the  Ranters,  a  seces- 
sion from  the  Wesleyans,  to  my  neighborhood,  when  I 
was  a  mere  boy.  Their  first  preachers  were  Hugh  Bourne 
and  William  Clowes,  Wesleyan  local  preachers.  Being 
denied  permission  to  preach  in  the  church,  they  resorted 
to  the  fields,  where  they  soon  attracted  immense  crowds. 
Societies  were  organized,  and  in  a  few  years  the  Prim- 
itives became  most  powerful  factors  in  the  religious  world. 

4 


50  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

They  extended  their  operations  to  Ireland,  and  preached 
on  Shane  Hill,  near  Portadown,  where  I  heard  them. 
They  were  plain,  blunt-spoken  men,  and  they  preached 
the  gospel  with  apostolic  fervor.  The  burden  of  their 
sermons  and  songs  was  the  three  R's — Redemption,  Re- 
pentance, and  Regeneration.  They  were  not  learned 
in  the  schools — preparation  for  the  ministry  was  to  them 
a  sinful  waste  of  time.  They  cared  nothing  for  the  purple 
and  fine  linen,  nor  the  flowing  robes,  nor  the  lawn  sleeves. 
They  knew  it  was  not  the  learning  nor  external  attrac- 
tions which  converted  the  three  thousand  on  the  Day 
of  Pentecost;  which  made  Felix  tremble,  and  Agrippa 
almost  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian.  Never,  in  all  my 
experience,  have  I  met  with  more  impressive  examples 
of  pure  and  undefiled  religion.  In  their  class-meetings 
and  love-feasts,  one  would  frequently  hear  such  words 
as  these:  "I  would  not  exchange  for  ten  thousand  worlds 
my  hopes  of  immortality."  And  I  see  an  old  cripple, 
bent  down  with  age  and  suffering,  rising  to  his  feet,  and 
adding  his  testimony,  "I  can  glorify  God  in  my  greatest 
suffering;  for  my  love  of  him  triumphs  over  all  my  trials." 
As  to  the  preaching,  it  resembled  very  much  that  of  the 
Salvation  Army  of  to-day.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
these  rough-and-ready  evangelists  were  miners,  black- 
smiths, farmers,  and  mechanics  of  all  grades.  Occasion- 
ally a  man  of  energetic  and  powerful  eloquence  would 
make  his  appearance.  There  was  one  of  this  class  who 
made  a  widespread  impression  upon  all  who  heard  him. 
His  style  may  be  judged  from  a  paragraph  like  this:  "I 
pause  on  my  wing  in  the  gathering  gloom  of  my  subject ! 
The  Thunderer  himself  has  commissioned  us !  We  be- 
long to  another  world  than  this !  We  are  the  loud  trum- 


FAMOUS  ORATORS.  51 

peters  of  heaven,  the  heralds  of  God!  Let  the  solemn 
seal  of  our  high  commision  burn  into  our  souls  and  bod- 
ies, until  we  shall  fully  bear  the  brand  of  the  Lord,  and 
preach  the  tremendous  preaching  that  is  destined  to  shake 
the  universe."  The  world  of  woe  trembles  at  the  sound 
of  such  a  faithful  preacher's  voice:  "Go,  ye  ministers; 
or,  as  has  been  well  said,  ye  brethren  of  the  heart  of  Jesus, 
the  men  of  the  bleeding  mysteries !  Go,  wet  your  lips 
where  love  flows  red  from  the  Mount  of  Passion !  Go, 
read  your  texts  by  the  light  of  the  angry  fires  of  Sinai, 
and  study  and  preach  your  sermons  in  that  loud  spirit- 
voice,  so  that  hell  may  curse,  heaven  applaud,  and  earth 
wail  at  your  vehement  outcries.  Go,  preach  to  loving  ones 
who  shall  soon  be  naked  spirits  in  a  blessed  world,  where 
no  tower  nor  tree  shall  shelter  the  uncovered  soul  from 
the  angry  wrath  of  God !" 

Their  singing  added  much  to  the  interest  and  excite- 
ment of  their  meetings.  I  think  frequently  of  one  of  their 
hymns.  I  could  repeat  two  verses ;  but  Mrs.  Mary  Doak, 
a  friend  of  my  youth  fifty  years  ago,  has  been  recently 
to  see  me,  and,  with  her  rare  and  accurate  memory,  has 
been  able  to  supply  all  the  missing  verses  for  me;  not 
only  of  this,  but  of  other  songs  we  used  to  hear  in  our 
childhood  days.  The  Ranters'  hymn  is  crude,  but 
pointed : 

"  Come,  saints  and  sinners,  hear  me  tell 
The  wonders  of  Emmanuel, 
Who  saved  me  from  a  burning  hell, 
And  brought  my  soul  with  him  to  dwell, 
And  gave  me  heavenly  union. 

My  old  companions,  fare  you  well, 
I  will  not  go  with  you  to  hell ; 
With  Jesus  Christ  I  mean  to  dwell, 
And  be  in  the  heavenly  union. 


UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

When  Jesus  saw  me  from  on  high, 
He  looked  on  me  with  pitying  eye  ; 
And  said  to  me  as  He  passed  by, 
With  God  you  have  no  union. 

When  I  began  to  weep  and  cry, 
I  looked  this  way  and  that  to  fly; 
I  strode  salvation  swiitly.by, 
But  still  I  had  no  union. 

But  when  I  hated  all  my  sin, 
My  dear  Redeemer  took  me  in, 
And  with  His  blood  He  washed  me  clean 
And  O  what  seasons  have  I  seen, 
E'er  since  I  felt  this  union  ! 

O  come,  backsliders,  come  away, 
And  learn  to  watch  as  well  as  pray ; 
And  if  you  meet  one  by  the  way, 
You  '11  still  find  something  good  to  say, 
About  this  heavenly  union." 


Chapter  III. 

AN   IRISH    FAMINE— DAYS    IN   BELFAST— QUEEN 
VICTORIA'S  VISITS. 

A  FAMINE  is  one  of  the  most  pitiful  of  spectacles. 
To  see  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  pleading  for 
the  necessaries  of  life ;  to  see  children  leading  their  par- 
ents into  the  street  to  die  of  starvation;  to  see  mothers 
kneel  on  the  wet  ground,  and  holding  their  children  up 
to  Heaven,  beg  for  help ;  to  hear  the  cries  of  the  bereaved 
families,  as  one  after  another  succumb  to  their  suffer- 
ings,— these  arexwhat  one  sees  and  hears  when  one  is  in 
a  famine-stricken  land.  The  great  poet  of  Italy  has  de- 
picted the  miseries  of  famine  in  the  finest  of  all  modern 
poems.  He  takes  his  count,  Ugolini,  the  noble  man  who 
is  the  subject  of  his  history,  and  plants  him  in  a  dungeon. 
The  keys  are  taken  away,  and  he  is  left  to  perish  with 
hunger.  Alone  would  be  nothing;  but  the  poet  plants 
around  Ugolini  the  figures  of  his  five  children.  One 
infant  is  already  dead,  another  is  dying,  a  third  is  call- 
ing frantically  upon  him  for  food,  and  another,  with  a 
yet  more  agonizing  appeal,  says  nothing,  but  fixes  his 
dying  eyes  upon  the  father,  who  sits  in  the  midst  of  all, 
a  pillar  of  sorrow.  The  English  artist  has  fixed  the 
scene  by  his  pencil,  and  the  "Ugolini"  of  Reynolds,  one 
of  the  most  sublime  productions  of  art,  is  a  terrible  tes- 
timony to  the  miseries  of  famine.  Multiply  this  one  case 
by  five  hundred  thousand,  and  you  will  have  some  faint 
idea  of  the  Irish  famine  of  1847.  Think  of  fifty  thousand 
Irish  women  closing  their  lips  forever,  buried  without 

53 


54  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

coffins,  buried  without  shrouds!  Did  I  say  closed  their 
lips  forever?  No,  indeed!  they  have  opened  up  yonder, 
white  and  fresh  and  beautiful  with  the  life  of  God,  and 
they  have  brought  against  their  oppressors  the  sacred 
accusation,  "When  we  were  hungry,  ye  fed  us  not !" 

"Unquestionably,"  said  the  London  Times,  "several 
hundreds  of  thousands  perished  prematurely  by  famine, 
by  slow  hunger,  by  nakedness.  Health,  wealth,  strength, 
and  life  itself,  have  fled  from  these  ill-fated  shores." 

There  is  a  current  story  among  the  Irish  that  Sir 
Arthur  Chichester,  Queen  Elizabeth's  Secretary  of  State 
for  Ireland,  once  wrote  to  Her  Majesty,  "There  is  no 
remedy  for  the  destruction  of  the  Irish  but  famine,"  and 
the  history  of  Ireland  attests  the  treatment  Ireland  has 
received.  Hear  what  Dr.  Talmage  says  on  the  subject: 
"Famine  in  1727,  and  many  hundreds  died!  Famine  in 
1747,  and  forty  thousand  died!  Famine  in  1756,  and 
two-thirds  of  the  population  died!  Famine  in  1846  and 
1847,  a  famine  so  awful  that  it  sent  to  eternity  and  Amer- 
ica over  three  millions!"  What  makes  these  famines 
more  deplorable  is,  that  they  were  surrounded  by  beauti- 
ful scenery.  Hunger  is  more  pitiful  when  crouching  at 
the  feet  of  such  hills  and  reflected  in  the  mirrors  of  such 
lakes.  An  island,  over  two  hundred  miles  long,  rhom- 
boid in  shape,  its  rocks  showing  more  divine  skill  than 
any  other  rocks;  forty  thousand  columns  in  the  Giant's 
Causeway,  some  of  them  large  enough  upon  which  to 
play  the  grand  march  of  the  last  judgment;  an  island 
indented  with  ninety  harbors,  among  them  beautiful  Gal- 
way;  her  coast  illuminated  at  night  by  sixty-two  light- 
houses,— think  of  the  horrors  of  famine,  set  about  with 
such  loveliness,  a  Gorgon  among  such  scenes  of  enchant- 
ment! 


AN  IRISH  FAMINE.  55 

I  remember  one  famine  well, — that  of  1847.  I  saw 
the  peasants,  writhing  in  death-throes  and  other  horrors 
that  I  have  never  forgotten ;  the  stalwart  peasantry,  sunk 
unto  the  earth,  where  they  fought  like  tigers  for  the 
nettles  and  the  withered  cabbage-stalks;  and  even  little 
children,  too,  fighting  for  the  nettles;  childhood  strug- 
gling with  childhood  to  exist  a  little  longer  in  a  living 
death. 

At  the  end  of  every  day  in  the  schools,  a  detail  was 
made  by  the  teachers  for  boys  to  report  at  the  places 
where  the  American  provisions  were  stored,  and  each 
boy  was  to  carry  a  portion  to  the  ,  sufferers.  In  many 
instances,  where  the  family  had  been  well-to-do,  the  corn 
and  meal  were  left  outside  the  door,  so  as  not  to  offend 
their  pride.  I  was  frequently  engaged  in  this  blessed 
work,  trundling  the  provisions  to  their  destination  on 
a  wheelbarrow.  It  was  a  heavenly  sight  to  see  the  road 
lined  with  this  boy  army  of  philanthropists.  Who  knows 
but  that  in  the  great  day  the  Divine  Judge  will  say, 
"Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my 
disciples,  ye  did  it  unto  me?"  In  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
life  to  which  I  may  be  exposed  I  will  not  be  disconso- 
late when  I  remember  these  benevolent  labors  for  God's 
poor. 

Though  starving,  many  of  these  poor  people  cher- 
ished a  pride  that  would  not  let  them  openly  accept  pub- 
lic charity.  They  would  wait  until  the  shades  of  night 
had  fallen,  and  then  steal  around,  in  a  stealthy,  shame- 
faced way,  to  the  places  where  the  distributions  were 
made,  to  get  enough  to  keep  them  from  starving  the 
next  day.  O,  it  was  pitiful !  These  people,  who  had  been 
thrifty  and  careful  all  their  lives,  to  be  obliged  to  slip 
out  at  night  and  beg  for  a  little  charity ! 


56  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

A  few  years  before,  the  population  was  nine  millions, 
the  people  were  healthy,  and  the  whole  land  full  of  rosy- 
cheeked  children.  No  pestilence  ever  rages  over  the 
Emerald  Isle,  and  yet  the  nine  millions  have  been  re- 
duced to  four  millions.  Here  is  a  true  story  of  one  of 
the  fever-sheds,  or  dead-houses,  which,  in  the  famine 
years,  were  so  numerous  in  Ireland :  One  morning  there 
came,  in  its  turn,  a  small  cart,  drawn  by  a  donkey,  to 
the  steps  of  the  shed.  The  starved  occupant,  as  he  was 
carried  in,  made  a  slight  movement.  The  doctor  inquired 
his  name,  and  he  answered,  "It  is  John  Maloney."  And 
soon  he  was  recognized,  and  exclamations  burst  from 
the  lips  of  the  inmates,  "Och,  now,  and  is  n't  the  world 
quare,  and  that  is  Mr.  Maloney — asthore  machree !  May 
the  blessed  Virgin  soften  the  pillow  for  your  head !"  And 
there  were  his  two  brothers,  with  the  tears  falling  like 
rain  down  their  faces.  One  old  man  muttered  slowly, 
"It  is  only  a  short  distance  from  there  to  there,"  making 
two  motions  with  his  trembling  fingers :  "first  at  the 
hospital,  and  then  at  the  dead-house."  John  Maloney 
had  been  a  respectable,  thrifty  young  farmer,  but  he  died 
of  starvation  in  the  dead-house.  The  fault  was  none  of 
his  own.  Thousands  of  others  gave  up  the  spark  of  life 
in  these  dead-houses,  victims  of  hunger  and  want. 

If  this  terrible  famine  had  its  horrors,  it  also  had  some 
compensations.  It  demonstrated  the  brotherhood  of 
mankind.  The  Sultan  of  Turkey  contributed  one  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  the  benevolent  people  of  England  gave 
large  sums;  but  it  was  reserved  for  this  one  greatest 
country  to  excel  all  others.  Cargoes  were  loaded  and 
sent  to  the  starving.  Captain  Clark,  of  the  war-ship 
Victor,  appeared  in  Dublin  with  his  Indian  meal.  This 
was  my  first  glimpse  of  the  American  flag,  floating  over 


AN  IRISH  FAMINE.  57 

the  charitable  gifts  of  the  generous-hearted  people.  I 
had  followed  the  track  of  the  glorious  flag.  I  knew 
every  river  that  it  had  crossed,  every  mountain  and  val- 
ley that  it  had  captured  from  the  Red-coats.  I  saw  it 
at  Trenton  and  Brandywine ;  and  when  it  was  triumphant 
at  Yorktown,  my  heart  thanked  God  for  the  final  victory. 

"  Hail  brightest  banner  that  floats  on  the  gale  ! 
Flag  of  great  Washington,  hail ! 
Kingdoms  and  thrones  in  thy  glory  grow  pale. 
Thou  shalt  live  on,  and  thy  people  shall  own 
Loyalty  's  sweet  where  the  throne  is  the  throne." 

John  Levering,  a  benevolent  gentleman  near  Freder- 
icktown,  Ohio,  sent  over  a  sack  of  meal,  and  on  it  he 
put  a  letter,  requesting  that  if  any  Irishman  got  it  he 
would  send  him  a  few  lines.  It  reached  a  poor  man's 
home,  and  he  wrote  a  letter  of  thanks.  Mr.  Levering 
sent  him  money  to  emigrate,  which  he  did,  and  after- 
wards the  man  sent  for  his  whole  family. 

The  Hutchinson  singers  touched  all  American  hearts 
by  the  singing  of  songs  on  this  subject.  I  remember 
never  to  have  read  a  more  touching  poem,  one  that 
stirred  my  sympathy  more,  than  the  one  on  the  last 
request  of  a  dying  Irish  boy,  dying  from  hunger,  for 
"just  three  grains  of  corn."  The  mother  found  them  in 
his  ragged  jacket,  and  gave  them  to  him.  It  was  the 
last  morsel  of  food  the  wretched  family  possessed.  They 
were  all  dying  of  starvation.  The  poem  was  composed 
by  an  American  lady,  Mrs.  Judge  Edmunds,  of  Brooklyn. 
She  had  read  of  the  dying  Irish  boy's  request,  and  being 
deeply  touched  by  it,  composed  the  poem.  The  Hutchin- 
son family  sang  this  at  all  their  concerts,  and  touched 
all  hearts.  I  have  heard  old  citizens  say  that  after  hear- 
ing the  first  verse  they  broke  down,  and  knew  no  more 


58  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

until  they  went  home  and  packed  their  barrels  full  of 
food  to  send  to  Ireland. 

"  Give  me  three  grains  of  corn,  mother, 

Only  three  grains  of  corn  ; 
It  will  keep  the  little  life  I  have 

Until  the  coming  of  the  morn. 
I  am  dying  of  hunger  and  cold',  mother, 

Dying  of  hunger  and  cold  ; 
And  half  the  agony  of  such  a  death, 

My  lips  have  never  told. 


There  is  many  a  brave  heart  here,  mother, 

Dying  of  want  and  cold, 
While  only  across  the  Channel,  mother, 

Are  many  that  roll  in  gold. 
There  are  rich  and  proud  men  there,  mother, 

With  wondrous  wealth  to  view ; 
And  the  wealth  they  fling  their  dogs  to-night, 

Would  give  me  life,  and  you." 

What  a  tide  of  events  has  rolled  through  those  years  \ 
I  am  not  an  old  man,  yet  my  recollection  almost  fails  to 
gather  in  the  thousands  of  incidents  which  have  hap- 
pened under  my  eye,  and  passed  into  the  pages  of  his- 
tory. 

I  remember  well  that  2d  of  August,  1849,  which  wit- 
nessed the  advent  of  England's  Queen  to  Belfast — the 
sovereign  of  a  continent,  a  thousand  lakes,  ten  thousand 
rivers,  and  ten  thousand  islands;  the  Queen  of  five  hun- 
dred thousand  warriors,  of  a  hundred  thousand  sailors, 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty  millions  of  human  beings ;  the 
supreme  ruler  of  a  country  more  wealthy  than  the  old 
Assyrian  Empire,  more  extensive  than  the  old  Empire 
of  Persia,  more  dreaded  than  the  Carthaginian  Empire 
in  the  height  of  its  power.  Victoria  came  to  receive  the 
homage  of  her  loyal  subjects,  the  loud  huzzahs  of  a  suffer- 


QUEEN   VICTORIA'S   VISITS.  59 

ing  people.  Every  available  spot  was  crowded,  and  bon- 
fires lighted  up  the  hills.  As  she  departed  she  waved  a 
white  handkerchief  in  recognition  of  the  welcome  she  re- 
ceived. A  local  poet  burst  into  the  most  enthusiastic 
poetry,  as  a  couple  of  verses  of  his  poem  show : 

"  O  come,  Lady  Queen,  to  our  Isle  of  the  Ocean, 

The  greenest,  the  fairest,  the  gayest  on  earth  ; 
We  welcome  thy  coming  with  heartfelt  emotion, 
Thy  presence  will  gladden  our  home  and  our  hearth  ! 
We  love,  we  revere  thee, 
In  homage  draw  near  thee, 

With  a  '  Cead  mile  falte,'  we  give  thee  good  cheer. 
Victoria,  we  hail  thee ; 
Our  harps  shall  regale  thee ; 
The  harp  is  the  music  for  royalty's  ear. 

Our  shamrock  is  softer  by  far  than  the  heather, 
When  sparkles  the  dew  on  its  emerald  breast ; 
It  will  yield  to  thy  tread  like  the  down  of  the  feather, 
No  Queen  of  the  Isles  has  its  triple-leaf  prest ! 

O  come  and  entwine  it, 

With  the  thistle  combine  it, 
And  mingle  its  green  with  the  blush  of  the  rose : 

From  thy  bosom  forever 

No  rude  hand  shall  sever 
This  bright  pledge  of  Union  and  Erin's  repose  !" 

The  Queen  made  her  first  visit  while  I  was  a  stu- 
dent in  the  Royal  Belfast  Academy.  Her  anticipated 
arrival  was  eagerly  awaited  by  thousands  of  the  loyalists 
of  Ulster.  At  length  she  arrived.  Before  her  stretched 
enthusiastic  thousands.  The  streets  were  carpeted  with 
scarlet  cloth;  the  roofs  of  the  private  houses,  the  public 
edifices,  and  the  steeples  of  the  churches,  were  decorated 
with  brilliant  flags  and  gay  streamers,  floating  in  every 
direction.  Every  foot  of  ground  was  packed ;  around  her 
was  a  fashionable  assemblage  of  rank  and  beauty  and 
wealth.  The  streets  swarmed  with  excited  and  shouting 


60  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

multitudes,  craning  their  necks  and  straining  their  eyes 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  majesty.  The  harbor  was  crowded 
with  vessels,  and  its  waters,  sparkling  in  the  sun,  com- 
pleted a  beautiful  and  animated  picture.  I  remember 
the  deafening  cheers  which  rent  the  sky,  coming  from 
half  a  million  throats,  as  the  Queen  passed  the  college. 
But  there  were  some  who  did  not  bow  the  knee,  who 
thought  of  the  chains  still  riveted  upon  the  limbs  of  the 
Irish  victims  of  famine,  and  curses  deep  and  heavy  raged 
in  their  bosoms.  An  incident,  indicative  of  the  feeling  of 
some  of  the  students,  was  the  appearance  of  a  black  flag 
just  as  the  Queen  rode  past  the  college.  The  Duke  of 
Wellington  accompanied  her,  and  I  saw  his  robust  figure, 
his  hooked  nose,  and  his  keen  eye.  His  smiles  seemed 
to  be  assumed — they  gave  a  suggestion  of  affectation. 
There  were  many  gifted  men  connected  with  the  lead- 
ing reforms  in  Church  and  State  then  in  Belfast.  Mr. 
James  Alexander  Henderson,  editor  and  proprietor  of 
the  News-Letter,  a  conservative  journal,  was  courteous, 
intelligent,  and  sympathetic,  bold  and  courageous,  in 
the  declaration  of  his  sentiments.  Thomas  Toye,  the 
minister  of  York  Street — the  clergyman  previously  re- 
ferred to,  who  united  theology  with  philanthropy,  and 
whose  oddities  were  the  talk  and  wonder  of  the  people — 
one  of  his  may  eccentricities  was  that  of  preachng  half 
an  hour,  and  then  going  out  for  a  smoke,  after  which  he 
would  quietly  return  to  the  pulpit  and  finish  his  sermon. 
He  was  temperate  in  language,  occasionally  brusque  in 
his  manners,  and  upright  in  heart.  Dr.  James  Morgan, 
the  pastor  of  Fisherwick  Presbyterian  Church,  was  a 
man  without  guile,  wrhose  Christian  character  was  un- 
impeachable. John  Rea,  the  lawyer,  a  man  of  talent  and 
energy,  who  boldly  and  eloquently  defended  the  prin- 


QUEEN   VICTORIAS   VISITS.  6 1 

ciples  of  the  Young  Ireland ers, — his  father  and  sisters 
belonged  to  the  same  Church.  There  was  the  Rev.  William 
O'Hanlon,  a  Congregational  minister,  who  had  visited 
the  homes,  or  rather  the  hovels,  of  the  poor,  and  gave,  in 
a  series  of  letters  in  the  Northern  Whig,  an  appalling  de- 
scription of  the  bitter,  grinding,  and  increasing  poverty 
of  the  working  classes. 

There  were  annual  visits,  then,  to  the  Wesleyan 
churches  by  the  most  famous  preachers  of  England. 
Robert  Newton  was  always  Attractive.  There  was  so  much 
of  impressive  energy  in  his  thought,  and  such  remark- 
able beauty  and  felicity  in  the  words  he  employed,  that 
no  audience  could  fail  to  hang  upon  his  eloquent  sen- 
tences with  delight.  The  churches  were  crowded,  there 
not  being  even  standing  room.  It  was  worth  the  crush 
to  hear  him  read  the  hymn  commencing  with  the  line, 
"Would  Jesus  have  the  sinner  die?"  Yes,  indeed,  it  was 
worth  the  journey  of  a  thousand  miles  to  hear  Charles 
Wesley  speak  as  this  prince  of  preachers  read  his  stirring 
hymns. 

Referring  again  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  O'Hanlon's  graphic 
pictures  of  Irish  destitution,  here  is  one  of  his  strong 
statements:  "O,  we  may  be  told  'poverty  shall  never 
cease  out  of  the  land!'  True,  most  true!  But  the 
poverty  we  most  complain  of  is  very  likely  to  make  the 
land  cease.  The  poverty  we  complain  of  is  rapidly 
bringing  millions  to  the  conviction  that  revolution  would 
be  to  them  a  blessed  change.  The  poverty  we  refer  to 
is  quickly  paganizing  large  classes  of  the  community. 
It  is  a  poverty  which  can  not  be  left  to  neglect,  to  mere 
relief,  to  the  poor  laws,  or  to  political  economy,  with 
safety.  It  is  a  poverty  for  which  no  prosperity,  no  his- 
toric renown,  no  amount  of  national  greatness,  no  extent 


62  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

of  external  territorial  development,  can  compensate.  It  is 
a  poverty  which  is  making  the  people  savage,  is  bring- 
ing the  monarchy  into  contempt,  is  destroying  hope, 
is  promoting  turbulence,  and  is  fomenting  a  spirit  of  re- 
bellion." 

"  Unkind,  already,  and  estranged  in  part, 
The  wolf  begins  to  share  their  wandering  heart." 

In  the  list  of  my  acquaintances  in  Belfast,  I  can  not 
omit  to  mention  the  names  of  Charles  Johnstone,  the  son 
of  a  Wesleyan  minister,  and  Waring  Kennedy,  the  son 
of  an  officer  in  the  Irish  constabulary.  Charles  John- 
stone  came  to  the  United  States,  entered  into  commer- 
cial life,  and  subsequently  died  as  a  brave  soldier  in  the 
Union  army.  He  was  of  a  kind  and  generous  nature, 
liberal  to  a  fault.  Waring  Kennedy  went  to  Canada, 
where  he  won  respect  and  honor  as  a  successful  merchant, 
and  is  at  this  time  mayor  of  Toronto.  The  three  of  us 
were  local  preachers  in  the  same  Church,  Old  Donegal 
Square.  We  often  compared  notes,  and  experimented 
in  private  houses,  and  received,  in  a  friendly  manner,  the 
criticisms  of  each  other.  Kennedy  was  conservative  in 
politics,  and  preferred,  naturally,  the  Canadian  home. 
J6hnstone  and  I  were  republicans,  and  gravitated  to 
the  more  congenial  atmosphere  of  the  United  States. 

Having  given  up  the  law,  I  was  now  contemplating 
entering  the  ministry,  and  sought  for  a  suitable  theolog- 
ical seminary.  I  was  directed  to  Glasgow,  where  the 
Rev.  James  Morrison,  a  very  learned  Doctor  of  Divinity, 
was  president  of  a  theological  college  under  the  super- 
vision of  the  Evangelical  Union,  a  Presbyterian-Armin- 
ian  body.  Dr.  Morrison  had  preached  in  Belfast,  and 
was  universally  hailed  as  a  second  Wesley.  Although 


QUEEN  VICTORIA'S  VISITS.  63 

he  was  popular  as  a  writer,  he  was  not  a  man  of  the 
people.  His  sphere  was  with  the  learned,  whom  alone, 
he  knew,  could  understand  his  dissertations  and  appre- 
ciate his  great  learning.  As  a  theologian,  he  was  a  giant, 
and  his  book  upon  the  ninth  chapter  of  Romans  will 
remain  an  imperishable  monument  of  his  controversy 
with  Calvinism.  When  in  Glasgow,  I  was  a  guest  in 
his  house,  studying  Hebrew,  Moral  Philosophy,  and  the 
art  of  sermonizing.  It  was  under  his  training  that  my 
views  upon  baptism  underwent  a  change,  and  I  was  fully 
confirmed  in  my  earlier  impressions. 

Dr.  Morrison  was  adored  by  the  students.  In  per- 
son he  was  of  middle  height,  strongly  built,  and  of  grace- 
ful appearance.  His  features  were  finely  chiseled,  but 
what  commanded  immediate  attention  was  the  immense 
power  concentrated  in  his  eyes.  I  have  never  before 
or  since  seen  eyes  so  piercing.  They  read  through  a 
man's  heart  and  soul.  His  personal  activity  was  wonder- 
ful, and  proved  his  frame  to  be  made  of  steel. 

I  had  every  opportunity  of  forming  a  correct  opin- 
ion of  Scotchmen,  and  much  that  I  saw  and  heard  re- 
flected honor  upon  the  Scottish  character.  Their  thrift, 
their  downright  frankness,  their  bluff  but  hearty  man- 
ners, their  deep  religious  sincerity,  and  their  reverence 
for  the  Sabbath;  their  patriotism,  bringing  up  memories 
of  the  banks  and  braes  which  the  genius  of  Scott  and 
Burns  have  made  immortal,  deeply  impressed  me.  It 
was  my  privilege  to  hear  the  famous  Scotch  preachers, 
political  and  forensic  orators. 

The  Queen  made  a  second  visit  to  Ireland  before 
I  left,  and  this  time  it  was  to  visit  the  Dublin  Exhibition. 
The  air  was  full  of  the  praises  of  royalty.  Every  man 
and  woman  that  was  met  upon  the  streets  was  talking 


64  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

about  Her  Royal  Majesty's  reception.  There  was  an- 
other Queen  arrived  in  Ireland  about  the  same  time, 
The  first  was  the  crowned  Queen  of  a  mighty  empire, 
a  woman  rich  in  all  the  world's  wealth,  girt  by  a  gor- 
geous state,  with  an  ancient  crown  dazzling  upon  her 
brow.  She  was  brought  to  the  Green  Isle  in  a  royal 
yacht,  over  the  royal  waves,  across  the  royal  Channel. 
Her  royal  soul  was  prayed  for  daily  by  sixteen  thousand 
royally  paid  parsons,  and  she  was  royally  received  in 
that  part  of  Her  Royal  Majesty's  dominions,  the  royal 
province  of  Ireland.  She  was  accompanied  by  her  royal 
consort,  and  by  all  the  royal  children  and  all  the  royal 
cousins.  She  was  cheered  and  told  in  royal  Irish  blarney 
that  one  vision  of  her  resplendent  royalty  would  cure  the 
ills  of  centuries.  For  three  days  the  royal  party  visited 
the  royal  Exhibition,  until  the  royal  limbs  and  the  royal 
eyes  ached,  and  then  they  slept  in  the  royal  bed-rooms 
in  the  royal  palaces. 

The  other  Queen  was  the  daughter  of  America,  with 
no  imperial  title,  with  no  riches  save  those  of  the  graces 
of  her  good  heart  and  the  exalted  genius  of  her  splendid 
intellect.  She,  too,  was  received  with  welcomes  which 
blazed  up  to  the  firmament.  There  was  no  sycophancy, 
no  cringing,  no  pretentiousness.  But  there  was  a  gen- 
uine enthusiasm.  There  was  no  doubting  the  truth  and 
intensity  of  the  hearty  reception.  Victoria,  decked  with 
the  diadem  of  sovereignty,  was  followed  by  her  slaves,  her 
lackeys,  and  her  wretched  dupes.  The  second  was  Harriet 
Beecher  Stowe,  the  wife  of  an  American  professor,  the 
daughter  of  a  famous  preacher,  the  sister  of  a  distin- 
guished brother  whose  glorious  voice  was  ever  lifted 
up  in  the  cause  of  humanity.  What  an  illustrious  family ! 
The  Queen  of  England's  family  never  gave  a  distin- 


QUEEN  VICTORIA'S  VISITS.  65 

guished  name  to  history,  never  wrote  a  book  worth  read- 
ing, never  built  a  soldier's  monument.  What  a  differ- 
ence between  the  receptions  of  these  two  Queens!  For 
the  one,  the  sullen  contempt  of  the  oppressed;  for  the 
other,  cheers  and  benedictions,  when  she  visited  the  Irish 
cities  and  traveled  throughout  the  beautiful  Isle,  with  no 
passport  but  the  symbolic  ring  of  Americanism. 

One  of  the  incidents  which  marked  the  Queen's  visit 
was  her  slapping  one  of  her  boys  in  the  face.  The  young 
prince  paid  no  attention  to  .the  cheering  thousands.  Her 
Majesty  was  annoyed;  she  remonstrated  with  Alfred,  and 
finally  gave  him  a  slap  on  the  face.  It  was  done  in  a 
moment,  and  the  vast  multitude  cheered. 

The  Belfast  press  was  ably  edited.  I  have  spoken  of 
the  Newsletter;  but  the  Northern  Whig,  the  organ  of  the 
Liberals,  numbered  many  gifted  writers.  Lawrence  God- 
kin,  now  of  the  New  York  Post,  commenced  his  journal- 
istic career  upon  this  paper.  So  did  Bruce,  the  author  of 
"Classic  Portraits."  Dr.  McKnight  wrote  the  leaders  for 
the  Banner,  of  Ulster.  Poor,  gifted,  ever-to-be-lamented, 
generous  Dennis  Holland  was  its  most  brilliant  editor. 
Then  he  was  tall  and  handsome.  The  last  time  I  saw  him 
he  was  a  shattered  wreck  in  New  York.  It  is  the  old 
story !  The  blackest  of  eyes  had  lost  their  luster.  "I  am 
going  back  to  old  Belfast.  There  a  man  is  expected  to  get 
drunk  only  in  the  daytime;  but  in  New  York  people  are 
drunk  both  day  and  night." 
5 


Chapter  IV. 

MARRIAGE— FIRST  YEARS  IN  AMERICA— ENTER- 
ING THE  MINISTRY— EXPERIENCE  AS  A 
CIRCUIT  RIDER. 

PREVIOUS  to  my  theological  studies  and  to  my  in- 
terest in  the  temperance  cause,  occurred  the  most 
important  event  in  my  life.  This  was  my  marriage  to  the 
peerless  woman  who,  for  nearly  forty  years,  cheered 
and  comforted  me  through  every  ill  and  disappointment, 
and  aided  and  encouraged  me  in  every  high  aim  and  am- 
bition. Christine  Lindsay,  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Samuel 
Lindsay,  a  reputable  farmer  in  the  neighborhood  of  my 
childhood's  home,  became  my  wife  in  the  Episcopal 
Church  of  Tullylish,  the  ceremony  being  performed  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Stewart,  curate  of  the  parish.  My  wife, 
a  descendant  of  the  famous  Scottish  clan  of  Lindsay, 
called,  on  account  of  the  hue  of  their  hair,  "Light  Lind- 
says/' possessed  a  warm  heart  and  a  rare  personal  beauty 
that  remained  through  life,  undimmed  by  time  and  sor- 
row. Her  parents  were  attached  and  devoted  members 
of  the  Established  Church. 

I  was  but  eighteen  years  of  age  at  the  time  of 
my  marriage,  and  my  wife  was  sixteen.  I  remember 
going  to  Banbridge  to  get  the  license  and  the  ring. 
It  was  a  lovely  day,  and  the  scenery  up  the  Bann 
was  beautiful,  and  in  harmony  with  my  feelings.  We 
settled  in  the  old  homestead  that  had  sheltered  gener- 
ations of  my  forefathers  before  me.  After  remaining 
here  a  year  or  two,  we  moved  to  Belfast,  where  I  con- 
tinued my  college  studies,  and  was  engaged  a  part  of  the 

66 


MARRIAGE — FIRST  YEARS  IN  AMERICA.  67 

day  in  the  wholesale  dry-goods  establishment  of  Robert 
Lindsay.  In  this  city  our  two  eldest  children  were  born, 
George  Wesley  and  Samuel  Arthur.  George  was  very 
sick,  and  it  was  thought  that  he  could  not  recover,  and 
we  sent  for  the  Rev.  Mr.  Knox,  a  Methodist  preacher, 
to  baptize  him.  It  was  a  very  impressive  baptism.  We 
were  young,  and  this  was  our  first-born,  hovering  on  the 
borders  of  eternity.  The  minister  prayed  with  heartfelt 
fervor  that  the  child  might  be  spared,  and,  as  his  name 
was  Wesley,  that  he  might  live  to  imitate  that  great  and 
good  man's  holy  and  useful  life.  And  he  has  lived  to  be- 
come, an  honorable  and  upright  man. 

In  all  my  efforts  to  acquire  knowledge  and  become 
useful,  my  wife  was  a  constant  aid.  Her  presence  was 
ever  an  inspiration.  When  I  left  for  Manchester  to'  attend 
the  great  Temperance  Convention,  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  I  could  tear  myself  away;  for  then  a  journey  to  Eng- 
land, across  the  Irish  Sea,  was  a  serious  undertaking. 
My  wife  sent  for  her  brother  John,  now  a  retired  officer 
at  Wrexham,  Wales,  to  come  and  remain  with  her;  and 
here,  too,  her  sister  Esther,  now  living  in  South  Africa, 
often  came  to  visit  us.  During  our  residence  in  Belfast, 
my  wife  made  many  friends.  She  was  an  active  member 
of  the  Donegal  Square  Wesleyan  Church.  What  changes 
the  years  have  wrought !  Some  of  those  dear  and  loved 
ones  have  passed  away;  some  yet  remain  in  the  old  land 
and  in  the  new.  And  she,  too,  the  kind  mother,  the  loving 
and  beloved  wife,  the  tender-hearted  woman,  has  left  me 
for  the  world  beyond. 

"  The  thoughts  of  other  days  are  rushing  o'er  me ; 
The  loved,  the  lost,  the  distant  and  the  dead 
Are  with  me,  and  I  mingle  with  them 
Till  my  sense  fails,  and  my  raised  heart  is  wrapt 
In  secret  suspension  of  mortality." 


68  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

I  resolved  to  make  my  home  in  the  United  States,  and 
become  a  full-fledged  American  citizen.  From  my  earli- 
est years  this  great  country  had  attracted  my  attention 
and  admiration.  The  story  of  its  discovery,  the  struggles 
and  triumphs  of  its  pilgrims,  the  success  and  progress  of 
the  Revolutionary  War,  and  the  marvelous  growth  of 
the  Republic,  had  captivated  my  imagination  and  won 
the  affections  of  my  heart.  So  one  bright  morning,  in 
October,  1854,  putting  my  long-cherished  desire  into 
operation,  I  started  upon  a  sailing-vessel,  the  Orient,  for 
the  New  World.  It  took  much  longer  then  to  cross  the 
Atlantic  than  now,  and  after  the  usual  sea-sickness  and 
other  hardships  attendant  on  a  long  sea  voyage,  I  reached 
New  York.  I  can  never  forget  the  emotions  that  filled 
my  heart  as,  standing  on  the  free  soil  of  America,  three 
thousand  miles  from  my  native  isle,  the  Atlantic  rolled 
its  eternal  flood  afar.  There  I  was,  a  stranger,  not  know- 
ing a  human  being.  It  was  Saturday,  and  the  next  day 
I  went  to  church,  and  heard  an  excellent  sermon.  One 
of  my  letters  of  introduction  took  me  to  Pittsfield,  Massa- 
chusetts. There  I  became  acquainted  with  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Parvin,  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  one  of  the  purest  and 
most  lofty-souled  men  I  ever  met.  He  afterwards  per- 
ished in  a  steamboat  disaster  upon  the  Ohio  River,  dur- 
ing the  war,  on  his  return  home  from  distributing  sanitary 
stores.  He  took  a  warm  interest  in  me,  and  recom- 
mended me  to  go  to  Kenyon  College,  Ohio.  After  spend- 
ing a  short  time  in  Albany,  I  followed  his  advice.  I  came 
to  Ohio,  partly  by  steamboat  and  partly  by  rail.  Cleve- 
land was  just  beginning  to  put  on  civic  airs.  I  had  much 
trouble  with  my  money,  as  every  State  passed  through 
had  a  different  currency,  and  a  stranger  experienced  pro- 
voking difficulties. 


FIRST   YEARS  IN  AMERICA.  69 

I  arrived  at  Gambler,  and  proceeded  immediately  to 
the  house  of  the  president,  Loren  Andrews,  who  was  one 
of  nature's  noblemen,  and  who  afterwards  served  with 
distinction  as  colonel  in  the  army.  I  was  introduced  by 
him  to  Dr.  Smith,  a  son-in-lawT  of  the  celebrated  Dr. 
Woods,  of  Andover,  Massachusetts.  It  was  my  inten- 
tion to  enter  the  theological  seminary,  Bexley  Hall,  and 
study  for  the  Episcopal  ministry.  Dr.  Smith,  after  exam- 
ining me  in  Latin  and  Greek,  pronounced  me  competent, 
and  I  was  entered  as  a  student.  Dr.  Smith  and  Dr.  Wing 
were  my  professors  in  Theology.  They  were  gentlemen 
of  the  old  school,  urbane,  kind,  well-read,  and  able  in- 
structors. I  studied  Hebrew  under  Professor  Trimble,  a 
graduate  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin.  He  was  a  gifted 
scholar,  and  gave  me  much  assistance.  The  college  at 
that  time  was  crowded — probably  there  were  four  hun- 
dred students.  Most  of  the  young  men  were  from  the 
South,  and  strongly  prejudiced  in  favor  of  their  peculiar 
institutions.  I  introduced  a  resolution  before  one  of  the 
societies  that  the  New  York  Independent  should  be  added 
to  the  reading-room.  To  my  surprise  a  score  of  fiery 
Southerners  jumped  up,  and  demanded  my  immediate  ex- 
pulsion. "He  is  an  Abolitionist !  Out  with  him !"  they 
shouted.  President  Andrews  quieted  them  by  telling 
them  I  was  a  stranger,  ignorant  of  the  customs  of  the 
United  States. 

During  my  attendance  at  Kenyon,  one  of  the  pro- 
fessors, who  had  charge  of  a  country  Church,  once  asked 
me  to  accompany  him  when  he  went  to  deliver  his  weekly 
sermon.  I  cheerfully  complied.  Starting  in  a  hurry,  he 
rushed  to  his  sermon  drawer,  and  hastily  snatched  the 
first  manuscript.  The  next  morning  he  opened  it  in  the 
pulpit.  Judge  of  his  surprise  and  consternation  when  he 


70  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

discovered  it  was  a  funeral  sermon  for  a  child,  from  the 
touching  words  of  David :  "While  the  child  was  yet  alive, 
I  prayed ;  now  that  he  is  dead,  wherefore  shoul  I  fret  and 
weep?"  The  learned  professor  was  in  a  dreadful  dilemma. 
He  was  a  slave  to  his  manuscript,  and  could  not  extem- 
porize. However,  he  went  on  and  did  his  best,  with  the 
perspiration  rolling  down  his  face.  When  he  concluded 
with  wrords  of  consolation  to  the  parents,  people  all  over 
the  house  were  inquiring,  "Whose  child  is  dead?"  They 
finally  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  Squire  Brown's, 
as  it  had  had  the  measles  for  a  long  time.  I  confess  I 
laughed  throughout  the  discourse.  The  professor  him- 
self was  so  chagrined  that  he  never  returned  to  the  charge, 
and  the  last  I  heard  of  him  he  had  burned  all  his  sermons, 
and  was  a  good  extempore  speaker. 

It  was  at  this  college  I  became  acquainted  with  the 
distinguished  Bishop  Mcllvaine,  a  man  profound  in  learn- 
ing, saintly  in  his  life,  and  renowned  for  his  evangelical 
views.  I  had  as  my  fellow-students  young  men  who  sub- 
sequently became  effective  and  distinguished  ministers  of 
the  gospel.  I  think  of  Moses  Hamilton;  Charles  Fearns, 
who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Knoxville;  Currie,  promi- 
nent in  Baltimore ;  Noakes  and  Bowers,  the  two  Fultons, 
Hople}',  Chittenden,  Roberts,  Strong. 

It  was  while  I  was  still  at  Gambier,  one  year  after  my 
own  arrival  in  America,  that  my  wife  and  two  young  sons 
joined  me.  She  had  remained  behind  to  sign  the  docu- 
ments relative  to  the  sale  of  some  property,  which  I  could 
not  do  before  I  left  Ireland,  being  then  under  age. 
In  fact,  it  was  not  until  I  was  twenty-one  that  I 
could  send  her  power  of  attorney  to  enable  her  to 
do  this. 


ENTERING   THE  MINISTRY.  7 1 

ENTERING    THE    MINISTRY— EXPERIENCES  AS    A  CIRCUIT 

RIDER. 

I  remained  at  Gambier  a  year;  but  finding  that  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  offered  a  more  immediate 
field  of  usefulness,  I  applied  for  admission  into  the  North 
Ohio  Conference.  As  a  preliminary  it  was  necessary  to 
be  recommended  by  a  Quarterly  Conference,  which  was 
done,  at  Amity.  There  was  considerable  opposition.  The 
Know-Nothing  movement  was  sweeping  over  the  country 
like  a  tornado.  One  official  member  denounced  me  as 
a  foreigner,  perhaps  a  Jesuit,  and  said  it  would  be  the 
ruin  of  the  Nation  to  admit  me.  The  Rev.  T.  H.  Wilson 
was  the  presiding  elder,  and  he  was  a  good  friend  of  mine. 
But  the  speech  which  secured  my  recommendation  was 
that  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Harmount.  He  was  on  his  feet  in  a 
minute,  and  I  can  recall  seeing  the  large  veins  in  his 
rugged  face  swelling  with  indignation,  and  his  voice 
trembling  with  excitement,  as  he  denounced,  in  scathing 
language,  the  attempt  to  prevent  my  recommendation. 
However,  there  was  another  difficulty.  A  Rev.  Mr.  Pil- 
cher,  of  Mt.  Vernon,  who  was  high  up  in  the  Know-Noth- 
ing order,  had  made  his  boasts  that  no  Irishman  should 
be  allowed  to  preach  in  that  Conference.  He  was  a  can- 
didate for  the  General  Conference,  and  anxious  for  votes. 
Rev.  Mr.  Wilson  and  Mr.  Harmount  interviewed  him,  and 
promised,  if  he  did  not  oppose  me,  to  cast  their  votes  for 
him.  He  agreed  to  this.  Conference  met  that  year,  1855, 
at  Sandusky,  Bishop  Ames  presiding.  The  Rev.  William 
Arthur,  an  Irishman  of  great  pulpit  power,  and  author  of 
"The  Tongue  of  Fire/'  preached.  His  sermon  produced 
an  immediate  effect,  the  Conference  adjourning  in  honor 
of  the  event.  When  my  name  was  proposed,  the  Rev. 


72  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Joseph  Wolf  rose  up  and  seconded  the  motion  in  a  speech 
of  singular  force,  saying,  in  closing,  "There  is  no  danger, 
and  Brother  Pepper  will  become  a  second  Arthur."  All 
over  the  house  there  were  responses,  that  sounded  like  the 
"murmuring  of  many  waters,"  "Admit  him !  admit  him !" 
It  was  my  first  experience  of  a  Methodist  Conference. 
The  members  seemed  to  be  earnest,  devoted,  and  consci- 
entious men. 

I  was  appointed  to  East  Union  Circuit.  At  one  of 
the  appointments  was  a  Know-Nothing  Lodge,  and  they 
declared  war  against  my  appointment.  One  of  them,  a 
local  preacher,  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  "he  would  meet 
me  with  a  shotgun."  Danger  being  apprehended,  the 
presiding  elder  thought  it  necessary  to  accompany  me. 
When  nearing  the  dangerous  section,  the  elder  got  out 
of  the  buggy,  and  went  forward  to  an  orchard,  and  prayed 
that  the  threatened  cloud  might  pass  away.  The  prayer 
was  answered.  He  afterwards  filled  his  pockets  with 
apples,  which  struck  me  as  a  strange  proceeding  for  a 
minister  of  the  gospel  to  do  without  the  consent  of  the 
owner.  He  satisfied  my  misgivings,  however,  by  saying: 
"It  is  all  right.  In  this  free  country  you  can  take  all  the 
apples  you  want." 

I  never  can  understand  why  it  is  that  such  political 
prejudices  should  be  cherished  against  those  who  by  acci- 
dent were  not  born  in  the  United  States.  The  noble- 
hearted  patriots  who  pledged  their  fortunes,  risked  their 
lives  and  all  that  was  dear  to  them  upon  earth,  not  merely 
for  Americans,  but  for  all;  the  foreign  soldiers,  brave 
as  Caesar,  who  fought  side  by  side  with  Washington,  with 
Gates,  with  Greene,  with  Sumter,  Marion,  and  Morgan, 
endured  hardships  that  this  country  might  be  an  asylum 
for  the  oppressed!  These  foreigners  fought  upon  all 


EXPERIENCES  AS  A    CIRCUIT  RIDER.  73 

Revolutionary  fields.  Go  to  the  plains  of  the  Carolinas, 
to  the  battle-grounds  of  Bridgewater  and  Fort  Erie,  not 
to  speak  of  our  recent  war,  there  you  will  find  that  the 
blood  of  foreigners  was  freely  poured  out  in  defense  of 
the  American  flag  and  American  institutions. 

In  the  first  year  of  my  ministry  there  were  many 
things  which  I  had  to  learn;  but  the  Church  endured 
kindly  my  lack  of  experience.  I  lived  at  a  place  called 
Mohawk,  in  Coshocton  County,  where  the  society  was 
largely  composed  of  Iris.h  Methodists  from  Donegal. 
There  were  the  Moores,  the  Thompsons,  the  Givens,  who 
were  devoted  Christians  and  pronounced  Republicans. 
The  Methams  were  English,  one  of  whom,  Pren  Metham, 
Ipecame  a  soldier,  and  was  my  colonel,  and  of  whom  I  will 
speak  further  as  I  proceed  in  my  narrative.  At  East 
Union  there  was  an  old  gentleman,  Nelson  Edwards, 
whose  words  of  counsel  gave  me  much  help.  And  there 
were  the  Marquands,  a  family  of  French  Methodists. 
Many  a  pleasant  evening  I  have  spent  in  their  delightful 
home.  The  local  preacher  who  had  threatened  dire 
things  became  a  good  friend ;  indeed,  he  initiated  me  into 
the  Know-Nothing  order  one  Sunday  afternoon.  I  had 
lectured  upon  America  the  evening  before  in  his  church, 
and  he  was  so  delighted  that  the  next  day,  when  he  was 
going  with  me  to  an  appointment,  he  asked  if  I  would 
like  to  become  a  Know-Nothing.  I  responded,  "Yes,  if 
there  is  nothing  in  the  order  contrary  to  true  American- 
ism." He  immediately  proposed  certain  questions,  and 
administered  an  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  Republic,  which  I 
most  cordially  took.  He  then  gave  me  the  signs  and 
passwords  of  the  order.  A  few  days  afterwards  I  was 
at  a  to wn^ where  there  was  a  county  meeting  of  the  mem- 
bers to  nominate  candidates  for  offices.  I  attended,  walk- 


74  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

ing  up  and  down  the  hall  giving  the  signs  at  a  rapid  rate. 
There  was  great  consternation.  Here  was  a  young  Irish- 
man, not  much  over  a  year  from  the  old  sod,  not  even  a 
citizen,  and  yet  he  was  a  Know-NothingJ  I  saw  the  pre- 
dicament, and,  apprehensive  of  danger,  beat  a  hasty  re- 
treat. But  for  weeks  and  months  it  was  the  subject  of 
much  conjecture.  They  had  never  seen  me  at  any  of 
their  Lodges,  and  they  could  not  understand  how  I  had 
got  in. 

The  local  preacher  was  a  character.  He  could  neither 
read  nor  write,  but  he  was  most  fervent  in  prayer  and 
powerful  in  exhortation.  He  used  to  hold  the  hymn-book 
wrong  side  up,  and  give  out,  "Come,  Holy  Spirit."  Once, 
when  he  was  preaching,  he  said  that  Moses  was  three 
days  in  the  whale's  belly;  whereupon  another  brother  ex- 
claimed, "No,  it  was  Jonah."  But  the  preacher  instantly 
repeated  his  declaration,  adding,  "I  will  bet  you  a  quarter 
it  was  Moses !"  He  prayed  so  earnestly  at  a  meeting  one 
Saturday  night  that  the  saying  went  about,  "He  is  a 
Bishop  Simpson  in  prayer."  The  house  was  crowded 
next  day,  and  when  I  repeated  what  had  been  said  to  the 
preacher,  he  replied,  "I  had  better  leave  while  my  colors 
are  flying." 

I  have  often  thought  it  strange  that  the  Methodist 
Church  should  lend  any  help  to  prescriptive  organiza- 
tions, for  she  has  suffered  considerably  from  prejudices 
herself.  The  very  year  I  came  to  this  country  there  were 
lecturers  passing  all  through  the  land  denouncing  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  as  the  foe  of  the  Republic; 
that  its  bishops  were  great  iron  wheels ;  that  its  presiding 
elders  were  wheels  next  in  size;  and  that  the  preachers 
were  lesser  wheels,  between  which  the  Government  was 
to  be  crushed.  A  Baptist  minister,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Graves, 


EXPERIENCES  AS  A    CIRCUIT  RIDER.  75 

published  a  book,  called  "The  Great  Iron  Wheel,"  in 
which  the  people  were  warned  against  the  Methodists. 
To  this  a  trenchant  reply  was  published  by  the  famous 
Parson  Brownlow,  entitled  "The  Great  Iron  Wheel  Ex- 
amined, and  a  Few  of  its  False  Spokes  Extracted."  The 
excitement  ran  high,  and  the  bitterness  against  Meth- 
odism became  almost  as  intense  and  widespread  as  after- 
wards it  was  against  the  Roman  Catholics. 

The  experiences  in  some  of  the  class-meetings  and 
love-feasts  upon  these  circuits  were  odd  enough.  I  re- 
member one  brother,  in  relating  his  experience,  said  he 
had  his  fault.  I  asked  the  class-leader  what  was  the  man's 
fault,  and  he  replied:  "He  is  the  greatest  liar  in  the 
county;  you  can  not  believe  a  word  that  he  says." 

My  next  field  of  labor  was  at  Roscoe,  where  I  found 
a  zealous  and  kind-hearted  people.  There  were  eight  ap- 
pointments, and  I  was  expected  to  preach  two  or  three 
times  every  Sunday.  I  had  for  my  colleague  the  Rev. 
William  Spafford,  a  preacher  of  singular  power,  an  excel- 
lent reader,  and,  for  those  times,  very  liberal.  At  one 
place  he  injured  his  usefulness  by  declining  to  pray  for 
an  old  man  who  was  asleep,  saying  that  "the  sleep  would 
do  the  aged  man  more  good  than  his  prayer."  The 
Comptons,  the  Ratilleys,  the  Pews,  the  Chalfants,  the 
Smiths,  and  the  Dickersons  were  prominent  in  Church 
work. 

There  was  living  in  this  circuit  an  old  Virginia  family 
by  the  name  of  Bell,  ardent  Methodists.  Two  of  them 
became  preachers,  Benjamin  and  Thomas.  Benjamin  had 
a  good  voice,  was  a  revivalist,  and  every  year  reported 
large  accessions  to  his  Church.  His  son  is  a  leading  mer- 
chant in  Fort  Wayne.  I  was  afterwards  appointed  to 
New  Comerstown,  a  large  circuit.  It  was  here  that  I 


76  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

formed  a  life-long  friendship  for  Mr.  L.  C.  Davis.  He 
was  not  a  member  of  any  Church,  but  was  a  valued  citi- 
zen. So  was  George  Dent,  a  man  of  benevolence  and 
patriotic  impulses. 

Keene,  Coshocton  County,  my  fourth  appointment, 
was  a  quiet  and  intelligent  town.  It  was  founded  by 
Yankees  from  New  Hampshire.  There  were  a  large  num- 
ber of  Irish — the  Boyds,  the  Moores,  the  Elliotts,  the 
Finleys,  the  Hays,  the  Johnstones.  David  Markley  and 
George  Norman  were  leading  Methodists.  Here  I  built 
a  new  church.  It  was  dedicated  in  a  sermon  by  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Kingsley,  editor  of  the  Western  Christian  Advocate. 
The  text  was,  "The  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say,  Come."  The 
people  were  pleased,  but  somewhat  surprised  at  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  sermon,  preached  by  so  eminent  a  scholar. 
He  afterwards  became  a  bishop  in  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  and  was  universally  esteemed  for  his  sin- 
cerity. 

My  first  serious  difficulty  commenced  here.  I 
preached  the  Thanksgiving  sermon  at  Keene,  and  in  con- 
trasting the  privileges  of  the  United  States  with  England, 
gave  offense  to  some  of  the  Irish  members  who  had  more 
admiration  for  England  than  America.  A  member  called 
upon  me  in  the  afternoon,  and  angrily  denounced  me  for 
daring  to  criticise  the  British  Government — "the  best 
Government  in  the  world,"  he  said.  He  apologized  the 
next  day,  saying  in  his  youth  he  had  suffered  an  injury 
to  his  head,  which  at  times  made  his  temper  get  beyond 
his  control.  He  explained  to  me  how  the  accident  oc- 
curred: He,  with  a  number  of  other  young  men,  went  to 
an  Irish  wake,  and,  in  a  spirit  of  mischief,  attached  a  rope 
to  the  neck  of  the  corpse.  When  the  house  was  full,  and 
at  a  fitting  moment  of  solemnity,  they  pulled  the  rope,  so 

/ 


EXPERIENCES  AS  A    CIRCUIT  RIDER.  77 

that  the  body  gradually  rose  to  a  sitting  position-.  Every 
one  was  filled  with  terror,  and  a  regular  panic  ensued. 
When  it  was  discovered  who  had  perpetrated  this  miser- 
able joke,  they  were  pursued  and  soundly  thrashed,  while 
my  irate  Irish  Methodist  received  a  fractured  skull,  which 
he  ever  afterwards  gave  as  a  plausible  excuse  for  his  fierce 
ebullitions  of  temper.  He  was  a  generous  man  withal, 
and  we  afterwards  became  lasting  friends. 

I  had  a  strong  supporter  in  a  young  medical  student, 
William  Carroll.  He  always  took  my  part  in  disputed 
questions.  He  afterwards  rose  to  distinction  as  an  army 
surgeon,  and  became  a  successful  practitioner  in  Phila- 
delphia. 

I  was  next  assigned  to  Chesterville,  Morrow  County, 
one  of  the  best  circuits  in  the  Conference.  It  had  many 
appointments.  I  lived  at  Bloomfield,  a  New  England 
settlement,  where  the  people  were  kind  and  friendly. 
There  were  the  Clarks,  the  Sears,  the  Jacksons,  the  Mar- 
vins,  the  Throckmortons,  the  Lyons,  the  Conways,  the 
Reinharts,  who  were  prominent  in  the  Church.  Chester- 
ville was  known  all  over  the  adjoining  counties  for  its 
fine  seminary.  James  Connolly,  an  Irish  boy,  lived  here 
with  his  parents.  He  became  a  major  in  the  army,  and 
was  offered  an  important  position  by  President  Arthur. 
He  served  several  terms  as  a  member  of  Congress  from 
Illinois.  The  Clarks,  Roswells,  and  Sheldons  were  promi- 
nent Methodists,  and  a  son  of  the  former,  Rev.  Wesley 
Clark,  became  famous  as  a  preacher.  His  widow  lives  in 
Cleveland,  with  her  son-in-law,  Mr.  Irwin,  enjoying  a  tran- 
quil old  age,  beloved  by  all.  The  Dunns,  the  Allisons, 
the  McVays,  the  Shurrs,  the  Kings,  the  Chases,  the  Kin- 
sels,  the  Selbys,  the  Ketchums,  the  McMahons,  all  lived 
in  this  place,  and  took  a  great  interest  in  the  young  Irish 


78  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

preacher.  An  incident,  which  grew  out  of  my  residence 
in  Chesterville,  was  told  by  Dr.  Betts,  an  Episcopal 
clergyman  at  St.  Louis,  before  an  Irish  audience.  I  had 
lectured  in  the  Mercantile  Library  Hall,  and  Dr.  Betts 
was  upon  the  platform.  The  crowd  called  him  to  the 
front,  when,  after  a  few  preliminary  remarks,  he  told  the 
following  story:  "Some  years  ago  a  young  Irishman 
canae  to  the  United  States,  entered  the  Methodist  Con- 
ference, and  was  sent  to  a  circuit,  where  he  became  popu- 
lar. When,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  Church,  it  be- 
came necessary  for  him  to  move,  the  young  ladies  of  the 
parish  made  for  him  a  beautiful  quilt,  as  a  memento  of  his 
residence  among  them.  One  young  lady  took  particular 
pains  with  her  'block,'  and  placed  her  name  upon  it.  She 
became  so  much  in  love  with  the  Irish  character  that  she 
resolved  to  find  an  Irish  husband.  The  young  Irish 
preacher  already  had  a  wife  and  family,  and  she  must 
therefore  look  elsewhere.  In  the  course  of  time  her  fam- 
ily came  West,  and  settled  in  a  town  where  there  was  an- 
other young  Irishman,  rector  of  a  Church.  The  result 
was — the  young  woman  became  my  wife !" 

I  inquired  into  the  circumstance,  and  found  that  the 
lady  was  a  Miss  Ketchum.  The  quilt  is^still  in  my  family. 

When  I  was  on  Chesterville  Circuit  an  amusing  inci- 
dent occurred,  which  showed  the  humor  and  thrift  of  the 
old  Irish  peddler.  The  circuit  embraced  twenty  miles, 
and  I  was  known  to  every  family  in  the  region.  Two 
Irish  peddlers  soon  found  out  that  the  preacher  was  from 
Ireland,  and  they  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it.  They 
went  about  showing  their  goods,  and  mentioning,  inci- 
dentally, that  it  was  five  years  since  they  had  seen  "dear 
Cousin  George."  On  this  supposed  relationship  they  sold 
many  tablecloths.  At  every  house  at  which  they  stopped 


EXPERIENCES  AS  A    CIRCUIT  RIDER.  79 

they  expressed  such  a  desire  to  see  "Cousin  George,"  that 
they  could  not  remain  long,  and  as  soon  as  they  had  made 
a  sale,  they  hastily  departed.  At  several  places  they  ex- 
hibited a  very  attractive  table-cover,  but  did  not  wish  to 
sell  it,  as  it  was  for  their  "Cousin  George !"  Such  stories, 
of  course,  at  once  created  a  desire  in  the  hearts  of  the 
good  Methodist  women  to  buy  just  that  very  table-cloth, 
and,  with  murmuring  protests,  the  peddlers  would  at  last 
yield  to  their  entreaties.  Another  table-cloth,  that  was 
exhibited  with  great  caution  and  reserve,  was  one  that 
"had  been  made  for  the  Queen's  table,  but  was  just  two 
inches  too  short!"  A  number  of  these,  that  had  been 
manufactured  "for  the  Queen's  table,"  were  disposed  of 
in  Chesterville  Circuit.  These  Irish  cousins  failed  to  call 
upon  me ;  but  the  alleged  relationship  was  quite  profitable 
to  them. 

Rev.  John  A.  Berry  was  my  senior  in  years,  but  was 
my  true  and  good  friend.  I  was  upon  this  circuit  three 
different  times.  My  colleagues  were  Mattison  and  Mof- 
fat,  both  of  them  successful  in  their  respective  fields.  The 
former  was  an  instructive  preacher,  the  latter  was  a  sweet 
singer.  Berry's  forte  was  in  revivals. 

It  was  during  my  pastorate  on  this  circuit  that  the 
Prince  of  Wales  visited  the  neighboring  town  of  Dela- 
ware. I  lived  not  far  from  the  college-town.  The  people 
everywhere  were  wild  with  joy  at  the  prospect  of  seeing 
this  young  scion  of  royalty.  To  such  an  excess  of  fool- 
ishness did  this  enthusiasm  reach  that  a  worrfan,  a  preach- 
er's wife,  rushed  in  front  of  the  prince  and  kissed  him, 
and  then  almost  expired  in  self-admiration.  I  shocked 
some  of  my  members  by  telling  them  I  would  rather  see 
a  soldier  of  the  Revolutionary  War  than  all  the  princes 
of  the  royal  kingdom. 


80  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Rev.  Frank  W.  Gunsaulus,  the  famous  preacher  of 
Chicago,  was  among  my  young  hearers.  His  mother  and 
father  were  active  Methodists. 

Senator  John  Sherman  was  commencing  his  political 
career  as  a  candidate  for  Congress  at  this  time.  It  was 
an  eventful  period  in  the  history  of  the  country.  John 
Sherman  represented  the  younq-  Republican  party.  He 
was  then,  as  he  has  ever  since  been,  the  most  orthodox 
in  his  principles.  His  history  has  become  a  part  of  the 
country.  While  many  of  the  legislative  flowers  have 
withered  in  the  bud,  he  has  reached  a  serene  old  age,  re- 
spected by  the  entire  Nation.  In  one  of  my  charges  he 
dined  with  a  widow  lady,  who  requested  him  to  say  grace. 
He  pleasantly  declined,  saying,  "My  wife  always  does 
that." 

Another  gentleman  who  has  held  a  seat  in  Congress, 
and  who  afterward  won  distinguished  honor  in  the  army, 
and  subsequently  became  a  successful  banker  in  Colum- 
bus, was  General  John  Beatty.  When  I  first  heard  him 
speak,  he  stood  at  the  corner  of  a  street,  upon  a  barrel, 
and  delivered  a  telling  address,  appealing  to  the  people 
for  votes.  He  was  elected,  and  in  Congress  proved  him- 
self to  be  a  fearless  advocate  of  his  party  and  most  faith- 
ful to  his  friends. 

I  had  said  something  in  my  book  of  "Sherman's  Cam- 
paigns" reflecting  upon  General  Belknap,  who  was  Sec- 
retary of  War.  When  the  army  was  reorganized,  Bel- 
knap  had  not  forgotten  the  criticism,  and  ordered  me  to 
be  left  out.  General  Beatty,  at  the  hour  of  midnight,  saw 
the  Secretary,  and  I  was  retained. 

When  I  entered  the  ministry  I  was  very  young,  and  I 
thought  that  my  ordination  parchment  qualified  me  for 
the  performance  of  any  civil  or  religious  functions.  In 


EXPERIENCES  AS  A    CIRCUIT  RIDER.  8 1 

1856  I  lived  in  the  town  of  Roscoe,  Coshocton  County, 
Ohio.  I  had  scarcely  settled  down  to  my  pastorate  when 
I  was  called  upon  to  celebrate  my  first  marriage  cere- 
mony. I  did  not  hesitate  a  moment,  but  married  the 
couple,  and  they  went  away  happy.  A  few  days  later 
I  met  Judge  Barnes,  of  the  Probate  Court,  when  I  was  re- 
turning the  certificate.  He  asked  if  I  had  obtained  a 
license  from  the  court  authorizing  me  to  perform  mar- 
riages. 1  told  him  that  was  not  necessary,  as  I  was  an 
ordained  minister.  uThis.is  not  enough.  You  must  have 
a  license  from  the  court,  and  you  are  now  liable  to  a  fine 
of  $500."  To  say  I  was  frightened  does  not  express  my 
feelings.  "What  had  I  better  do?"  The  judge  replied, 
"Come  over,  and  I  will  give  you  a  license,  and  then  you 
must  go  and  marry  that  couple  again."  The  next  day 
I  rode  to  the  farm-house  where  the  young  farmer,  with 
his  men,  was  harvesting.  I  explained  the  situation  to  his 
wife,  who  was  preparing  dinner,  and,  as  soon  as  the  young 
man  came  in,  to  him.  He  laughed  immoderately,  saying, 
"I  am  perfectly  satisfied  as  it  is."  I  was  not,  however,  as 
that  $500  fine  loomed  up  before  me.  So  the  couple  came 
out  into  the  hall,  and  I  married  them  again. 

The  Church  members  of  those  early  days  of  my  min- 
istry tell  many  jokes  about  my  awkwardness  in  handling 
a  horse.  But  the  most  of  them  are  merely  the  outcome 
of  a  vivid  imagination.  For  the  truth  of  two,  however,  I 
will  frankly  vouch.  When  I  arrived  in  this  country  I  had 
never  yet  sat  upon  the  back  of  a  horse.  Soon  after  my 
appointment  to  my  first  circuit,  it  was  necessary  for  me 
to  go  a  number  of  miles  to  visit  a  sick  parishioner.  A 
neighbor  kindly  loaned  me  a  horse,  and  aided  me  to 
mount.  All  went  well  xintil  I  discovered  that  I  had  passed 
the  house.  Then  I  endeavored  to  turn  around;  but  un- 
6 


82  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

fortunately  did  not  know  enough  to  stop  pressing  on  the 
rein  at  the  proper  time,  and  the  horse  kept  turning  around 
and  around  until  I  was  dizzy  and  frightened.  Probably 
in  my  fright  I  loosened  my  hold  on  the  rein ;  for  suddenly 
the  horse  started  down  the  road  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  never 
stopped  until  in  front  of  his  owner's  door. 

When  I  had  become  a  little  more  accustomed  to  this 
mode  of  traveling  about  the  country,  I  was  one  day  re- 
turning to  Mt.  Vernon  from  a  country  church,  where  I 
had  been  preaching.  It  was  my  custom  in  coming  to  a 
small  stream  to  pass  under  instead  of  over  the  bridge,  in 
order  to  water  my  horse.  On  this  occasion  I  had  been 
reading ;  but  being  cramped  with  the  long  ride,  I  put  the 
book  in  my  pocket,  and  raised  my  arms  to  stretch  myself. 
The  bridge  being  low,  I  grasped  one  of  the  rafters.  At 
this  instant  the  horse,  who  had  slaked  his  thirst,  feeling 
the  movement  of  my  body,  concluded  it  was  an  indication 
to  move  on,  which  he  did.  My  surprise  was  great  when 
I  found  myself  suspended  above  two  feet  of  water.  The 
horse  had  stopped  a  short  distance  away,  turned  around, 
and  was  gazing  at  me  with  mild-eyed  wonder.  I  was 
obliged  to  drop  into  the  water  and  wade  to  my  horse. 


Chapter  V. 

FROM    PULPIT    TO    CAMP— CHAPLAIN    AND    CAP- 
TAIN—ROUGH SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE. 

THERE  is  a  fascination  about  soldiering,  all  that  por- 
tion of  the  world  knows  that  ever  donned  a  uniform, 
buckled  on  a  sword,  or  marched  to  patriotic  music, 
whether  the  grand  strains  of  "Hail  Columbia"  or  any  of 
the  soul-inspiring  airs  wrhich  ring  again  to  the  echoes  of 
war  amongst  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

The  work  of  volunteering  in  this  country  in  1861  was 
no  holiday  work,  and  the  result  of  no  fanciful  sentiment. 
We  of  the  North  had  not  been  accustomed  to  military 
maneuvering,  and  when  it  came  it  needed  a  stern  per- 
sonal spirit;  not  out  of  any  unwillingness  of  the  people 
to  drill,  to  train,  and  to  enroll  themselves,  but  simply 
because  they  had  been  reared  in  peaceful  pursuits.  What 
a  contrast  between  that  war  and  the  Spanish- American ! 
Then,  the  North  was  divided ;  the  millionaire  Mugwumps 
and  Copperheads  of  New  York  were  indifferent,  if  not 
openly  hostile.  Now,  all  classes  are  united.  It  was  not 
long  after  the  firing  upon  Fort  Sumter  that  in  every 
free  State  of  the  North  there  was  a  soldier,  and  the 
States  marshaled  their  citizens  with  the  sublime  deter- 
mination to  win. 

In  the  latter  part  of  1861  I  was  pastor  of  the  Meth- 
odist Church  at  Keene,  Coshocton  County,  Ohio.  I 
had  preached  war  sermons  and  delivered  war  speeches, 
helping  to  recruit  regiments  from  the  beginning  of  the 
contest.  One  Sunday  in  particular  I  preached  from  the 

83 


84  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

text,  "Out  of  the  south  cometh  the  whirlwind,"  and  as 
I  told  the  incident  of  the  first  time  I  saw  the  flag  in  Ire- 
land, when  it  floated  over  an  old  war-ship  filled  with  pro- 
visions for  the  starving  people,  the  enthusiasm  was  over- 
whelming. An  old  member,  Joseph  N.  Wood,  after  the 
sermon,  rose  up  and  immediately  suggested  that  now 
was  the  time  and  place  to  put  that  pledge  into  operation. 
I  answered  that  I  had  no  paper  and  no  pencil.  "Never 
mind,"  said  Brother  Wood,  "take  your  hymn-book,  and 
here  is  my  pencil."  In  a  few  moments,  sixty  had  re- 
sponded. In  the  afternoon  I  preached  the  same  sermon 
at  another  appointment,  and  several  more  were  enrolled. 
By  the  next  day  a  hundred  had  signed  their  names, 

The  organization  of  a  regiment  was  one  of  the  most 
important  events  of  the  Civil  War,  and  among  the  earliest 
to  respond  to  the  call  of  the  President  was  the  Eightieth 
Ohio.  It  was  recruited  in  the  counties  of  Carroll,  Tus- 
carawas,  and  Coshocton,  and  also  one  company  from 
Columbiana.  It  was  a  stalwart  body  of  men,  receiving 
applause  and  commendation  from  its  various  command- 
ers. Many  of  its  members,  who  went  out  in  high  spirits, 
never  returned.  The  historian  of  Ohio  in  the  Civil  War 
gives  the  following  list  and  dates  of  its  battles  and  cam- 
paigns, but  it  is  far  from  being  complete: 

Corinth,  Miss.,  Siege  of, April  30  to  May  30,  1862. 

Farmington,  Miss., May  9,  1862. 

luka,  Miss.,    .    , September  19-20,  1862. 

Corinth,  Miss., October  4,  1862. 

Raymond,  Miss.; •   • May  12,  1863. 

Jackson,  Miss., May  14,  1863. 

Vicksburg,  Miss.,  Siege  of May  1 8  to  July  4,  1863. 

Mission  Ridge,  Tenn., November  25,  1863. 

Salkahatchie,  S.  C., February  3-9,  1865. 

Bentonville,  N.  C., March  19-21,  1865. 

Sherman's  march  to  the  sea. 


FROM  PULPIT  TO  CAMP — CHAPLAIN  AND  CAPTAIN.     85 

No  mention  is  made  here  of  the  battles  of  Adair, 
Resaca,  and  Big  Shanty,  in  all  of  which  the  Eightieth 
participated. 

The  officers  of  the  regiment  when  mustered  into 
service  were  as  follows : 

Colonel, Ephraim  R.  Eckley. 

Lieutenant-Colonel, Matthias  H.  Bartilson. 

Major, Richard  Lan'hing. 

Surgeon, Ezekiel  P.  Buell. 

Assistant  Surgeon Samuel  Lee. 

Assistant  Surgeon,  ....-..• Charles  W.  Buvinger. 

Quartermaster,      Clark  H.  Robinson. 

Adjutant, Thomas  W.  Collier. 

COMPANY"  OFFICERS. 

COMPANY  A. 

Captain, Isaac  Ullman. 

First  Lieutenant, .    .  Sylvester  Wallace. 

Second  Lieutenant, Frederick  Buell. 

COMPANY  B. 

Captain, Charles  H.  Mathews. 

First  Lieutenant Oliver  C.  Powelson. 

Second  Lieutenant, George  F.  Robinson. 

COMPANY  C. 

Captain, John  J.  Robinson,  Sr. 

First  Lieutenant, Daniel  Korns. 

Second  Lieutenant, Christian  Deis. 

COMPANY  D. 

Captain, David  Skeeles. 

First  Lieutenant, Michael  C.  West. 

Second  Lieutenant, James  M.  Scott. 

Afterwards,  Robert  Hill,  James  McBain,  Freeman  Davis,  James  Mc- 
Laughlin,  and  Sylvester  West,  now  a  prosperous  merchant  of  Cleve- 
land, were,  I  believe,  in  this  company  as  officers. 

COMPANY  E. 

Captain, Emerson  Goodrich. 

First  Lieutenant, Daniel  G.  Hildt. 

Second  Lieutenant,    . John  T.  Bedwell. 

John  Orme,  Henry  W.  Kirby,  James  M.  Cochran,  George  B.  Wilson, 
Christian  Deis,  and  Ebenezer  McFall  were  afterwards  appointed  or 
promoted  officers. 


86  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

COMPANY  F. 

Captain,  • Pren.  Metham. 

First  Lieutenant, Wm.  Wagstaff. 

Second  Lieutenant, .  Thomas  W.  Collier. 

Peter  Hack,  James  Carnes,  Francis  H.  Farmer,  Samuel  H.  Clark, 
Wesley  J.  Welling,  were  subsequently  appointed  or  promoted  officers. 

COMPANY  G. 

Captain, William  Marshall. 

First  Lieutenant, James  E.  Graham. 

Second  Lieutenant, John  D.  Ross. 

Milton  B.  Cutler,  John  W.  Simmons,  John  Isenogle,  and  others, 
afterwards  were  appointed  or  promoted  officers. 

COMPANY  H. 

Captain, George  W.  Pepper. 

First  Lieutenant, John  Kinney. 

Second  Lieutenant, Jacob  W.  Doyle. 

Of  this  Company,  Wm.  H.  Anderson,  Nicholas  R.  Tidball,  Henry  C. 
Robinson,  Sylvester  M.  Baldwin,  Ezra  D.  Swan,  and  Charles  D.  Mc- 
Clure,  because  of  death  or  resignation,  were  promoted. 

COMPANY  I. 

Captain,      Joseph  M.  Anderson. 

First  Lieutenant, William  P.  Hay. 

Second  Lieutenant, Charles  D.  Espy. 

William  P.  Hay,  George  Maw,  Zaven  Lanning,  were  afterwards 
promoted. 

COMPANY  K. 

Captain, John  H.  Gardner. 

First  Lieutenant, David  Korns. 

Second  Lieutenant, James  E.  Graham. 

Thomas  C.  Morris  and  Cyrus  W.  Borton  were  Captains  in  this 
Company,  as  well  as  Francis  M.  Ross  and  Jesse  H.  Cateral. 

Of  my  own  company  I  give  all  the  names : 
ROSTER  OF  COMPANY  H,  BOTH  REGIMENT,  O.  V.,  U.  S.  A. 

Captain, George  W.  Pepper. 

First  Lieutenant, . John  Kinney. 

Second  Lieutenant, J.  W.  Doyle. 

First  Sergeant, N.  R.  Tidball. 

Second  Sergeant, S.  M.  Baldwin. 


FROM  PULPIT  TO  CAMP — CHAPLAIN  AND  CAPTAIN.     87 


Third  Sergeant,  . 
Fourth  Sergeant,  . 
Fifth  Sergeant,  . 
First  Corporal, .  . 
Second  Corporal, 
Third  Corporal,  . 
Fourth  Corporal, . 
Fifth  Corporal,  . 
Sixth  Corporal,  . 
Seventh  Corporal, 
Eighth  Corporal, . 


MUSICIANS. 


Fifer,  .    . 
Drummer, 


H.  W.  Brelsford. 

Robert  Dickey. 

F.  A.  Norman. 

A.  Teas. 

J.  H.  P.  Dimmock. 

E.  D.  Swan. 

Wm.  H.  Anderson. 
.  J.  T.  Crawford. 
.  J.  B.  Wilson. 
\  P.  Moore. 
,  A.  Spellman. 

P.  S.  Campbell. 
,  J.  A.  McClure. 


Bailey,  J. 
Bell,  H. 
Bechtol,  J. 
Boyd,  G.  B. 
Brown,  R.  E. 
Baker,  Perry, 
Baker,  R.  L. 
Clark,  J.  D. 
Cook,  T.  J. 
Cross,  J.  B. 
Cross,  EH. 
Cross,  H.  P. 
Chub,  John. 
Carnahan,  W.  J. 
Cullison,  F. 
Davis,  J.  P. 
Dayton,  J. 
Donley,  James. 
Decker,  H.  H. 
Derr,  J. 

Dobson,  Thomas. 
Duffee,  James. 
Derr,  W. 
Ellis,  S.  H. 
Ellis,  J.  F. 
Failing,  M. 
Finlay,  J.  J. 


PRIVATES. 
Geren,  S.  P. 
Goodhue,  G.  W. 
House,  J.  E. 
Hull,  R.  E. 
Huff,  G.'  W. 
Hout,  W.  H.  R. 
Hoyle,  J. 
Infield,  Perry. 
Infield,  Phanas. 
Infield,  Chas. 
Johnson,  W.  A. 
Kinney,  L. 
Lint,  C. 
Lochart,  F. 
Laughead,  M. 
Lawrence,  W. 
McKee,  W. 
Mills,  J. 
Masten,  J. 
Marks,  J. 
Madden,  S.  B. 
Madden,  W. 
Morrow,  E.  W. 
Mulford,  S. 
Mulford,  D. 
Murrill,  J.  F. 


Magness,  H. 
Miller,  G.  W. 
Oglen,  John. 
Ogle,  Jacob. 
Oakleaf,  J. 
Poland,  B. 
Robinson,  W.  H. 
Richards,  W.  H.  H. 
Ross,  J. 
Ricketts,  A.  C. 
Rutherford,  A. 
Ridenbach,  D. 
Shaerii,  H. 
Syphert,  W.  A. 
Stewart,  W.  F. 
Stewart,  J. 
Sickels,  D.  P. 
Steele,  A. 
Vankirk,J.. 
Wilson,  T. 
Warner,  W. 
Willis,  W. 
Willis,  R.  W. 
Williams,  J.  R. 
Watson,  J. 
Zook,J.  B.' 


88  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Adjutant  Collier  was  never  absent  in  victorious 
marches  and  battles.  Deep  and  wise,  stealthy  and  with- 
out ostentation,  he  was  the  admiration  of  the  whole  regi- 
ment. Like  the  fabled  knights  of  old,  he  seemed  to  be 
subject  to  some  enchantment  which  carried  him  through 
all  danger  safely. 

The  Eightieth  went  out  into  the  field  with  E.  R. 
Eckley,  it  returned  with  Pren  Methan  as  its  colonel — 
a  pure,  gallant,  chivalrous  man.  In  the  neutral  days, 
when  politicians  balanced  for  and  against  slavery,  Met- 
ham  was  a  bold  and  uncompromising  Abolitionist.  He 
became  a  soldier,  not  only  to  save  the  Union,  but  also 
to  emancipate  the  slave.  He  was  the  /'self-sacrificing 
chevalier  of  an  oppressed  race."  He  was  of  English 
origin.  His  whole  breed  was  British  to  the  core;  but 
he  had  no  sympathy  with  English  hatred  of  the  North. 
When  a  lad  he  used  to  set  audiences  on  fire  with  his 
recitation  of  Robert  Emmet's  immortal  vindication. 
He  grew  strong  and  patriotic  on  such  food.  Colonel 
Metham  did  not  know  what  fear  was.  His  personal  gal- 
lantry at  Vicksburg  was  hailed  with  most  enthusiastic 
cheers  by  his  regiment.  His  memorable  soldierly  abil- 
ities have  endeared  him  to  all  his  officers  and  men.  The 
war  being  over,  he  retired  to  his  large  farm  in  Coshoc- 
ton  County,  Ohio,  where  he  spends  his  closing  years  in 
peace,  in  good  will  toward  men,  and  in  the  entertainment 
of  his  hosts  of  friends.  He  never  sought  office,  but  would 
travel  a  thousand  miles  to  benefit  a  poor  veteran.  The 
American  Civil  War  knew  no  braver  man — generous, 
hearty,  and  true  in  all  the  relations  of  life,  was  and  is 
my  comrade  and  colonel/  Pren  Metham. 

As  soon  as  I  had  raised  my  company,  I  telegraphed 
the  news  to  Governor  Dennison.  In  an  hour  the  reply 


FROM  PULPIT  TO  CAMP — CHAPLAIN  AND  CAPTAIN.     89 

came  back:  "God  bless  you!  Report  with  your  men  at 
Camp  Meigs,  and  I  will  send  your  commission  as  captain." 
I  did  as  commanded;  but  being  ignorant  of  military  tac- 
tics, I  wished  to  decline  the  honor  conferred  upon  me 
by  making  me  captain.  This  was  not  permitted;  the 
men  insisting  that  I  should  remain  at  least  a  year,  and 
promising  that  some  one  would  take  charge  of  the  drill- 
ing. A  competent  man  was  soon  found  in  Sergeant 
N.  Tidball,  of  Coshocton.  The  company  was  organized. 
The  first  lieutenant  was  John  Kinney;  the  second,  J.  W. 
Doyle. 

My  command  was  Company  H  of  the  Eightieth  Ohio 
Volunteers.  W.  R.  Eckley,  of  Carrollton,  was  the  col- 
onel, D.  Lanning  was  the  major,  and  M.  H.  Bartilson 
the  lieutenant-colonel.  Eckley  remained  with  us  four 
years,  and  resigned  when  he  was  elected  to  Congress. 
He  was  a  good  lawyer,  a  kind-hearted  man,  and  popular. 
Bartilson  was  also  a  member  of  the  bar,  a  thrilling 
speaker,  a  thorough  disciplinarian,  and  a  brave  soldier. 
He  was  wounded  at  Corinth,  from  the  effects  of  which 
he  never  recovered.  David  Lanning  was  a  gallant  sol- 
dier, and  much  beloved  by  the  soldiers.  He  was  killed 
at  the  battle  of  Corinth  while  leading  a  charge  against 
the  Rebels. 

The  morning  we  left  our  camp  was  a  lovely  one.  The 
sky  was  cloudless,  the  air  bracing,  and  the  streets  of  New 
Philadelphia  were  crowded,  with  all  the  citizens  cheering 
and  waving  their  handkerchiefs.  Fathers,  mothers,  wives, 
lovers,  and  children  were  among  them,  weeping  as  they 
bade  farewell  to  some,  alas !  whom  they  would  never  see 
again.  Among  the  groups  was  my  own  little  family, 
waving  me  a  farewell  that  might  be  forever.  The  next 
town  reached  on  our  journey  was  Coshocton,  where  three 


90  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

or  four  companies  were  recruited.  Here,  also,  were  im- 
mense crowds.  Every  house  displayed  flags  and  other 
emblems  of  loyalty.  The  enthusiasm  was  unbounded. 
As  there  are  thorns  among  roses,  thistles  among  the 
green,  and  vipers  among  the  lower  creations,  so  there 
were  Copperheads  here,  who  silently  breathed  out  their 
venom.  One  of  these  was  heard  to  say,  as  I  marched 
at  the  head  of  my  company,  "There  is  that  preacher 
Pepper!  I  would  like  to  shoot  him!" 

Arriving  at  the  camp,  the  men  were  assigned  to  their 
quarters;  and  when  Sunday  came,  I  preached  from  the 
text,  "Paul  reasoned  upon  righteousness,  temperance, 
and  judgment."  During  the  sermon  I  had  four  inter- 
ested listeners — -James  Campbell,  his  brother,  and  their 
wives.  They  came  from  the  same  part  of  Ireland  that 
I  did,  and  had  known  me  as  a  child.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  discourse,  one  of  the  wives  rushed  up,  loosened 
my  collar,  and  examined  my  neck  for  a  scar  left  by  a 
severe  scalding  I  had  received  in  childhood.  As  soon 
as  she  saw  the  scar,  she  shouted,  much  to  the  surprise 
of  the  crowd,  "Yes,  Jimmy,  it  is  George  Pepper !  Come  I 
come!"  The  Campbells  are  a  noble  family.  After  the 
war  I  spent  many  a  happy  evening  with  them,  talking 
over  old  times.  There  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  Simp- 
son Harmount,  a  War  Democrat,  and  a  whole-souled  man. 
I  was  his  guest  frequently  afterward,  and  he  showed  me 
many  personal  kindnesses.  I  also  met  Judge  Patrick, 
a  patriotic  man,  a  good  citizen,  and  an  indefatigable 
editor,  as  well  as  entertaining  conversationalist.  He  was 
the  father-in-law  of  Joseph  Meclill,  the  famous  newspaper 
man. 

After  remaining  a  day  or  two  at  Cincinnati,  the  regi- 
ment moved  south,  stopping  at  Nashville,  where  I  called 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  91 

upon  Mrs.  Polk,  the  widow  of  the  President.  She  was 
a  strong  Union,  woman.  I  complimented  her  appear- 
ance for  one  so  old,  and  she  answered  me,  "I  am  but 
a  shadow  of  my  former  self."  "Yes,"  I  replied,  "but  a 
beautiful  shadow,"  whereupon  she  laughed  most  pleas- 
antly. Then  we  took  our  departure  for  Mississippi,  paus- 
ing for  awhile  at  Paducah.  The  battle  of  Shiloh  had 
just  been  fought,  and  the  soldiers  were  moving  forward. 
What  a  scene  Cairo  presented !  There  were  regiments 
there  from  every  Western  State — soldiers  everywhere. 
Cairo  was  the  dirtiest  place  I  ever  saw. 

The  regiment  was  now  ordered  to  Corinth,  Missis- 
sippi. The  first  battle  was  that  of  Farmington.  The 
engagement  was  short  and  sharp.  One  of  the  officers  of 
the  regiment  was  retreating  at  the  first  volley  of  the 
enemy.  I  asked  him,  as  he  passed  me,  where  he  was 
going.  "I  am  going  home,  Captain.  It  is  too  much  of  a 
risk  for  a  man  with  a  large  family."  He  resigned,  but 
afterward  re-entered,  and  did  good  service  in  the  field. 

The  battle  of  Inka  soon  followed.  General  W.  S. 
Rosecrans  was  everywhere,  cheering  and  encouraging 
the  troops.  It  was  a  superb  spectacle  to  see  the  bronzed 
and  warrior  figure  leading  the  army  with  the  words, 
"Come  on,  boys !  We  '11  I-uker  them  to-day !"  General 
Price  was  in  command  of  the  enemy.  The  Eightieth 
Ohio  behaved  admirably  in  this  fight,  marching  right  up 
to  the  muzzle  of  the  guns. 

The  siege  of  Corinth  succeeded,  with  its  long  days 
and  weeks  of  waiting,  and  the  deafening  sounds  of  its 
heavy  cannon.  General  Price  was  in  command  of  the 
Rebels.  Pope  was  our  general.  There  has  been  much 
criticism  of  the  general's  management  of  this  siege.  The 
battle  afterwards  was  desperate  and  full  of  thrilling  in- 


92  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

cidents.    Some  of  the  Eightieth  fell  here — Bartilson,  Lan- 
ning,  Robinson;  and  many  were  wounded. 

I  had  in  my  company  an  odd  individual,  who  fancied 
that  he  would  surely  be  killed  in  battle.  The  fact  was, 
he  was  a  most  arrant  coward,  and  was  always  in  the  hos- 
pital. Before  one  of  the  battles  in  Mississippi  he  wrote 
to  his  wife:  "Dear  wife,  there  is  to  be  a  dreadful  battle 
to-morrow.  I  will  be  killed.  This  is  the  last  letter  you 
will  ever  receive  from  your  loving  husband.  Bring  up 
the  children  to  honor  their  patriotic  father,  who  died 
for  the  Union.  Farewell!  farewell!"  Then  he  added 
a  postscript,  showing  that  the  ruling  passion  was  strong 
in  death :  "Do  n't  forget  to  sell  the  wool  to  the  highest 
bidder."  My  friend  is  still  living,  and  the  last  I  heard 
from  him  he  was  trying  to  get  a  pension.  There  were 
few  such  cowards  in  the  regiment.  The  Eightieth  en- 
gaged in  all  the  principal  battles  in  Mississippi,  culmi- 
nating in  the  capture  of  Vicksburg,  which  electrified  the 
Nation,  and  especially  the  ardent  Union  men  and  women./' 
Never  was  there  a  more  noble  feat  of  arms  than  the  cap- 
ture of  this  city,  and  in  that  capture  the  dear  old  regi- 
ment was  foremost.  The  position  of  the  Confederates 
was  most  formidable.  General  Pemberton  had  forty 
thousand  to  defend  his  position.  They  lost  great  num- 
bers, and  the  conduct  of  our  army  was  equal  to  anything 
it  had  ever  done.  After  Vicksburg  came  Mission  Ridge, 
where  for  three  days  the  Confederates  fought  desper- 
ately— bayoneted  at  their  guns  rather  than  surrender. 
The  Blue  Coats  marched  right  into  the  forts,  and  planted 
their  flags,  at  the  same  time  killing  all  they  came  across. 
When  the  Confederate  general  saw  our  soldiers  on  the 
top  of  the  ridge,  under  the  terrible  fire  of  his  artillery, 
he  threw  up  his  hat,  and  cried  out,  "It  is  not  with  men 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE,  93 

I  have  to  contend,  but  with  demons !"  General  Wiley 
lost  a  leg.  He  rendered  valuable  service  in  this  most 
brilliant  victory.  He  still  lives,  honored  and  beloved 
by  his  fellow-citizens,  in  Wooster,  Ohio. 

After  a  furlough,  on  account  of  ill-health,  I  rejoined 
the  regiment  at  Huntsville,  Alabama,  as  chaplain.  This 
office  had  been  kept  vacant  for  me  during  my  illness,  in 
the  hope  that  I  might  return.  Before  starting,  I  received 
a  courteous  invitation  from  Governor  Tod  to  join  his 
party  at  Gettysburg,  where  President  Lincoln  was  to 
deliver  an  address.  I  have  always  regretted  my  decli- 
nation of  this  kind  invitation.  I  went  direct  to  Huntsville, 
one  of  the  most  delightful  spots  in  the  South.  On  Sun- 
day I  went  with  a  lieutenant  to  hear  the  celebrated  Dr. 
Ross,  who  ranked  high  as  a  pulpit  orator.  His  sermon 
was  the  very  highest  vindication  of  the  Southern  cause 
that  I  had  ever  heard.  In  my  volume,  "Personal  Recol- 
lections of  Sherman's  Campaigns  in  Georgia  and  the 
Carolinas,"  I  have  given  a  full  outline  of  this  remarkable 
effort.  The  lieutenant  who  accompanied  me  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Eightieth,  and  he  was  always  doing  something 
ridiculous  and  laughable.  As  we  were  passing  a  large 
mansion,  some  ladies  were  just  entering,  on  their  return 
from  church.  Bob,  as  he  was  familiarly  called  in  the  regi- 
ment, noticing  them,  suddenly  stopped.  "There  are  my 
father's  old  friends,"  he  said.  "They  were  delegates  to 
the  Presbyterian  General  Assembly,  at  Steubenville.  Let 
us  ring  the  bell,  and  make  ourselves  known."  I  remon- 
strated, but  he  was  decided ;  so  in  we  went.  The  lieu- 
tenant greeted  the  ladies  courteously,  told  them  who  he 
was,  and  referred  to  his  religious  training;  praised  Dr. 
Ross's  sermon,  and  then  introduced  me  as  his  chaplain. 
With  true  Southern  hospitality,  we  were  invited  to  dine. 


94  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

We  sat  down  to  a  sumptuous  repast,  when  Bob  said, 
"Chaplain,  now  ask  a  blessing!" 

The  great  battle  up  to  this  time  was  fought  at  Kene- 
saw,  where  there  is  one  of  the  most  magnificent  views 
ever  seen  anywhere.  A  valley  on  all  sides  in  billowy  sur- 
prises, rolling  higher  and  higher,  on  whose  crests  are 
the  white  lines  of  the  homes  of  Atlanta.  Southward, 
the  blue  dome  rises,  lifts  its  head  above,  and  overlooks 
the  eminences  of  the  country — it  is  Stone  Mountain,  that 
rises  like  a  huge  loaf,  and  twenty  miles  south  of  the  crest 
where  Atlanta  rests  in  her  beauty.  Eastward  is  the  lovely 
village  of  Marietta,  gleaming  out  of  luxuriant  foliage 
like  an  emerald  in  a  cluster  of  diamonds.  Of  the  battle 
of  Kenesaw  the  Confederate  General  French  said,  "We 
sat  there  hours,  looking  down  upon  seventy  thousand 
troops  arrayed  in  the  strife  of  battle."  It  was  a  pageant 
on  a  grand  scale.  One  of  our  colonels  who  was  captured 
described  it  as  "the  most  severe  ordeal  that  my  nervous 
system  has  ever  undergone."  We  were  within  two  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  Rebel  works,  and  not  a  shot  was  fired. 
Another  hundred  yards,  and  still  no  explosion !  I  now 
began  to  feel  a  little  strange.  Another  hundred  yards, 
and  still  no  sign  of  life !  Another  hundred  yards,  and  we 
were  certainly  within  range  of  musketry;  but  there  was 
no  sign  of  life  in  the  intrenchments.  Now,  over  me  be- 
gan to  come  a  great  feeling  of  dread.  I  would  have 
turned  and  fled,  but  for  fear  of  disgrace,  which  was 
stronger  than  the  horror  of  death.  I  knew  what  was  .com- 
ing when  we  were  within  twenty  yards  of  the  intrench- 
ments. From  all  along  the  line  protruded  scores  and  hun- 
dreds of  muskets.  I  knew  that  every  holder  of  a  musket 
was  picking  out  his  man.  This  continued  but  for  a  few 
moments,  when  above  all  the  sounds,  distinct  and  clear, 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  95 

I  heard  the  command  given,  "Now,  men,  fire!"  In- 
stantly, from  along  the  entire  line,  there  seemed,  like  a 
lightning  flash,  to  burst  forth  a  sheet  of  flame.  I  was 
struck,  and  fell  senseless;  but  when  I  recovered,  and 
turned  to  look,  there  were  just  seven  men  in  my  regiment 
standing." 

The  assault  upon  Atlanta  lasted  for  several  days. 
General  Johnston  had  been  supplanted  by  General  Hood, 
who  was  a  daring  and  reckless  leader.  On  the  morning 
of  the  22d  of  July  a  most  violent  cannonade  raged  for 
hours.  The  enemy  fought  with  desperation.  The  women 
and  children  were  hiding  in  holes  dug  in  the  earth,  while 
our  shells  fell  in  showers  around  them.  General  McPher- 
son's  death  cast  a  temporary  gloom  over  the  troops;  but 
when  fiery  John  A.  Logan  took  command,  despondency 
was  changed  to  victory,  and  our  brave  boys  began  to 
storm  the  lines  in  every  direction.  They  were  received 
by  a  shower  of  balls.  The  Confederates  fought  like  mad- 
men, but  the  struggle  was  of  short  duration.  Finally 
the  whole  city  was  surrendered,  by  Major  Calhoun,  after 
a  sharp  correspondence  between  Generals  Sherman  and 
Hood.  The  City  Council  agreed  to  unconditional  sur- 
render. Then  the  joyful  telegram  from  General  Sher- 
man to  Abraham  Lincoln  was  sent :  "Atlanta  is  ours,  and 
fairly  won!"  This  telegram  set  the  country  wild  with 
rejoicing.  It  was  a  most  critical  and  momentous  victory. 
Gold  had  gone  up  to  300,  the  earth  burned  like  an  oven, 
France  and  England  had  arranged  to  interfere  in  favor 
of  the  South,  a  Northern  Convention  had  declared  the 
war  a  failure;  but  the  capture  of  Atlanta  changed  all 
these  plans.  To  the  air  of  "John  Brown's  soul  is  march- 
ing," the  troops  took  up  their  advance  to  points  further 
South — nobody  knew  where,  except  General  Sherman. 


96  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

The  army  was  separated  into  two  divisions,  commanded 
by  Generals  Slocum  and  Howard.  The  country  was 
pleasant.  We  traversed  splendid  hills  and  valleys,  soon 
to  be  laid  waste,  and  bearing  all  the  marks  of  war — a 
most  eloquent  plea  for  the  Peace  Society.  We  soon 
reached  Howell  Cobb's  plantation.  The  soldiers  knew 
him  to  be  a  daring  and  courageous  leader  of  the  Con- 
federates, and  they  desired  to  burn  his  elegant  mansion. 
They  asked  General  Sherman  for  permission.  He  re- 
fused, but  said,  "I  believe  if  I  were  in  command,  I  would 
take  a  nap !"  General  Ostarhouse  took  the  hint,  and 
putting  his  blanket  over  his  head,  said,  "I  goes  to  sleep 
for  fifteen  minutes."  He  woke  up;  the  fire  had  not  yet 
done  its  work.  "I  sleeps  ten  minutes  more." 

At  length  Fort  McAllister  was  reached,  the  key  of 
Savannah.  Although  it  was  December,  the  weather  was 
warm  and  calm  as  a  summer's  day  at  home.  The  order 
was  given  to  attack  the  fort.  It  was  a  most  exciting  and 
splendid  sight ;  for  we  could  see  every  movement.  At 
every  discharge  of  the  guns  there  was  the  exclamation, 
"There  goes  another!"  General  Sherman  was  watching 
the  result.  Soon  hurrahs  were  heard,  and  the  fort  was 
ours.  General  Sherman  sent  this  dispatch  to  President 
Lincoln:  "I  beg  to  present  you  a  Christmas  gift, — the 
city  of  Savannah,  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  guns  and 
twenty  thousand  bales  of  cotton."  President  Lincoln 
sent  back  the  reply:  "Many  thanks  for  your  Christmas 
gift.  When  you  were  about  leaving,  I  was  anxious;  now, 
that  the  undertaking  has  been  a  success,  the  honor  is  all 
your  own." 

Savannah  is  the  Queen  City  of  the  South.  The  streets, 
with  their  waving,  sparkling  foliage;  the  magnificent 
squares,  which  are  the  lungs  of  city  life ;  the  Gothic  aisles 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  97 

and  spacious  avenues  of  Bona  Ventura,  are  worth  a  visit 
to  see;  the  old  cemetery,  where  the  streams  of  life  have 
ceased  to  flow,  and  where  General  Oglethorpe  and  the 
pioneers  of  Georgia  sleep  in  peace;  the  Pulaski  monu- 
ment, reared  upon  the  very  spot  where  the  patriotic  Pole 
fell  fighting  for  American  independence;  the  Orphanage 
of  Whitefield,  a  blessed  fountain  of  charity ;  the  superbly- 
poised  and  beautifully-dressed  women;  .the  proverbial 
Southern  hospitality,  extended  even  to  Yankees!  I  was 
fortunate  in  meeting  a  namesake,  Thomas  Pepper,  whose 
princely  home  was  thrown  open  to  myself  and  friends 
by  the  generous  owner  and  charming  family.  Every- 
thing, from  cellar  to  garret,  was  at  our  command.  This 
namesake  was  from  Tipperary,  and  all  his  actions 
showed  it : 

"  Tall  was  his  form,  his  heart  was  warm, 

His  spirit  light  as  any  fairy ; 
His  face  as  wrathful  as  the  storm 
1      Which  shakes  the  hills  of  Tipperary." 

These  recollections  have  not  faded  away  under  a  less 
sunny  sky,  but,  refreshed  and  fed  by  the  currents  of  a 
heart  which  is  not  yet  hardened;  shall  bloom,  like  flowers 
around  the  monument  reared  within  the  hidden  regions 
of  my  sympathies,  to  the  memory  of  Jasper  and  the  city 
for  which  he  died. 

Broad  River  separated  us  from  Columbia.  How  was 
it  to  be  crossed  in  the  face  of  a  withering  fire?  The 
pontoniers  soon  solved  that  problem.  The  soldiers  rep- 
resented all  professions — the  engineer,  the  carpenter,  the 
miner,  the  architect,  and  the  bridge-builder  were  all  there. 
The  Yankee  soldier  was  a  most  practical  man.  He  real- 
ized more  than  Kipling  ever  dreamed  of  when  he  de- 
scribed "Her  Majesty's  jolly  soldier  and  sailor  too."  Our 
7 


98  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

soldiers  were  the  most  adaptable  of  men.  They  could  tear 
up  railroads  at  night,  and  relay  the  rails  in  the  morning; 
they  could  burn  bridges,  and  rebuild  them;  they  could 
carry  muskets,  and  command  armies.  A  British  critic 
was  surprised  to  find  a  private  soldier  reading  in  the  At- 
lantic Monthly  a  scientific  article  which  he  had  written 
in  the  trenches.  There  were  brains  in  our  bayonets.  The 
sun  shone  with  a  dazzling  brilliancy  upon  the  houses  of 
the  doomed  city.  Its  bright  beams  revealed  all  objects 
plainly:  the  river,  a  shining  flood,  rolling  on  majestically; 
the  broad  and  beautiful  street,  shaded  by  magnificent  old 
trees,  tall  and  splendid.  Columbia  sparkled  brightly 
in  the  sunlight.  The  pontoons  being  laid,  we  were  soon 
over,  the  sun  shining  out  with  additional  brilliancy,  flood- 
ing with  its  sunlight  the  waving  foliage  and  the  green 
fields  of  the  surrounding  landscape.  As  we  marched 
up  the  street,  an  old  colored  woman,  more  than  eighty 
years  of  age,  with  tears  streaming  down  her  furrowed 
cheeks,  exclaimed,  "Thank  God,  our  saviors  have  come 
at  last !" 

We  had  just  left  Goldsboro,  en  route  to  Raleigh,  and 
were  in  the  very  disagreeable  business  of  laying  cordu- 
roy bridges  across  a  miserable  swamp,  when  a  rider  was 
seen  in  the  dim  distance  waving  a  flag.  General  Logan 
turned,  and  said  to  me,  "What  does  that  mean?"  The 
tired  soldiers  soon  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  man,  and  then 
eager  eyes  turned  in  his  direction.  The  thousands  of 
troops  heaved  like  the  ocean  under  the  throb  of  a  storm. 
The  rider  came  nearer — a  voice  was  heard,  and  every 
soldier  placed  his  hands  behind  his  ears  to  catch  the 
distant  words,  which  fell  like  music  upon  our  ears — like 
blessed  music — "Lee  and  his  whole  army  have  surren- 
dered to  General  Grant!"  Cheers  greeted  the  news — 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  99 

cheers  such  as  the  foreign  monarch  never  heard;  cheers 
that  shook  the  plains ;  cheers  such  as  the  heavens  seldom 
hear.  The  army  was  formed  into  a  hollow  square,  and 
the  chaplain  gave  out  the  doxology,  "Praise  God,  from 
whom  all  blessings  flow!"  O,  how  they  did  sing  it!  I 
have  heard  camp-meetings  sing,  when  thousands  made 
the  welkin  ring;  I  have  heard  scores  of  Englismen  sing 
"God  save  the  Queen !"  I  have  heard  Grand  Army  re- 
unions keep  time  to  the  air,  "John  Brown's  soul  is  march- 
ing on," — but  none  were  ever  so  sweet,  so  grand,  so 
overwhelming,  as  the  doxology  sung  by  the  soldiers  that 
day  in  the  swamps  of  North  Carolina.  The  boys  hugged 
and  kissed  each  other.  The  words,  "Lee  and  his  whole 
army  have  surrendered,"  were  as  a  fountain  of  sweet 
waters  in  the  desert.  The  soldier  thought  of  home,  of 
wife,  of  babies,  of  the  bright  handsome  faces  of  his  boys 
and  girls,  of  the  beloved  parents  whom  he  had  not  seen 
for  years.  There  were  others  in  that  joyous  crowd  whose 
thoughts  were  sad  when  they  remembered  vacant  chairs 
and  loved  ones  they  would  never  see  again. 

"  Poor  girl,  her  name  he  dared  not  speak ; 
But  something  on  the  soldier's  cheek 
Wiped  out  the  stain  of  powder." 

And  there  were  those  at  home  whose  thoughts,  too, 
were  sad. 

"  And  Irish  Norah's  eyes  were  dim 
For  a  soldier  dead  and  gory ; 
And  English  Mary  wept  for  him 
Who  sang  of  Annie  Laurie." 

Of  this  event  I  will  quote  Judge  Ricks's  recollections: 
"General  Cox  had  received  a  sealed  letter,  and  noticing 
the  genial  face  brighten,  I  knew  that  the  letter  from  Gen- 
eral Sherman  contained  good  news.  Before  he  read  it 


100  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

to  the  troops,  he  ordered  all  hats  to  be  taken  off,  and 
the  throats  to  be  cleared  for  three  rousing  cheers.  My 
horse  became  frightened,  and  before  I  could  gather  my 
bridle  reins,  the  thought  flashed  upon  me  that  that  would 
be  glorious  news  to  announce  to  the  whole  army.  The 
twenty-fifth  army  corps  had  heard  the  shouting  I  cried 
out :  kLee  and  his  whole  army  have  surrendered !  Make 
way  for  the  bearer  of  the  glorious  news !'  Onward  I 
pressed  my  way  through  the  surging  ranks.  I  can  not 
describe  the  effect — some  fainted,  some  shouted  them- 
selves hoarse.  General  Casement,  as  I  came  within  hail- 
ing distance,  cried  out,  'Ricks,  what  is  it?  for  God's  sake 
what  is  it?'  'Lee  has  surrendered!'  Quick  as  a  flash, 
he  clapped  his  hands  together,  and,  with  a  wild  yell, 
turned  a  complete  somersault  on  the  road,  and  hurried 
to  his  command  with  the  tidings.  In  one  of  the  regi- 
ments, as  I  was  sweeping  through  the  ranks,  a  soldier 
cried,  'What  is  it?'  'Lee  has  surrendered!'  Clear  and 
loud,  above  all  the  voices,  was  his  reply,  'Great  God,  you 
are  the  man  I  have  been  looking  for  for  the  last  four 
years !' '  What  a  world  of  meaning  there  was  in  that 
prompt  answer!  The  whole  Nation  was  looking  for  it. 
Every  word  ran  through  our  hearts  like  a  balsam.  No 
poet  that  has  woven  around  that  war  the  finest  web  of 
words  that  imagination  ever  wedded  to  patriotic  music, 
could  describe  the  emotions  of  the  soldiers  upon  that 
memorable  day.  After  a  few  hours  of  rejoicing,  the  word 
was  given  to  advance  with  speed,  and  in  a  day  or  two 
we  were  in  the  historic  city  of  Raleigh.  General  Kil- 
patrick  was  the  first  to  enter.  He  exultingly  waved  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  The  soldiers  crowded  to  the  Capitol, 
where  there  was  a  plentiful  supply  of  liquors.  I  entered, 
with  Joseph  McCullough,  the  famous  war  correspondent, 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  IOI 

and  Colonel  Sowers,  of  Cleveland,  a  soldier  for  whom  a 
shower  of  bullets  had  no  terrors.  He  served  with  honor 
through  the  entire  war,  gallantly  leading  his  men  wher- 
ever danger  called.  In  reference  to  this  entrance  to  Ra- 
leigh, Colonel  Sowers  is  very  fond  of  telling  of  a  chaplain 
from  Ohio  who  would  not  touch  a  drop  of  liquor  when 
every  other  soldier  was  drinking  in  honor  of  the  victor. 
He  generally  finishes  the  story  with  the  words,  "And  he 
was  a  chaplain  at  that !" 

At  Greensboro,  speaking  of  General  Sherman's 
March,  the  Confederate  chief,  General  Johnston,  said  he 
"made  up  his  mind  that  there  had  been  no  such  an  army 
since  the  days  of  Julius  Caesar."  Yes,  it  was  the  great- 
est march  in  all  history ;  nothing  like  it  has  ever  occurred. 
All  the  soldiers  were  happy.  General  Johnston  met  Gen- 
eral Sherman  at  Durham,  fifteen  miles  from  Raleigh,  on 
a  beutiful  April  day,  when  the  atmosphere  was  filled  with 
the  perfume  of  flowers.  Our  cup  of  joy  was  running 
over.  I  preached  on  the  campus  of  the  Capitol  to  an 
audience  of  Confederate  and  Federal  soldiers.  Many  gen- 
erals of  both  armies  were  present.  It  was  a  glorious  day. 
The  text  was:  "Glory  to  God  in  the  highest.  Peace  on 
earth  and  good  will  toward  men."  Sympathy  was  ex- 
pressed for  the  heroic  and  wounded  hearts  of  the  Con- 
federates, and  the  victorious  were  admonished  to  be  mod- 
erate in  their  jubilation,  and  to  remember  Southerners  as 
unsurpassed  in  valor.  But  alas !  the  transition  from  happi- 
ness and  cheers  was  brief'  for  a  cloud  had  fallen  upon  the 
brilliant  scene — Lincoln  was  dead !  It  is  due  to  the  people 
of  Raleigh  to  say  that  they  shared  with  us  in  our  wild 
grief.  The  leading  citizens  appeared  on  the  streets  with 
emblems  of  mourning.  Our  generals  gave  positive  orders 
that  there  should  be  no  violence.  It  was  pitiable  to  see 


102  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

the  colored  people.  Their  day  was  turned  into  darkened 
night ;  their  sorrow  was  heart-rending.  "They  have  killed 
good  Massa  Lincoln ;  but  God  be  libing  yet,  God  be  libing 
yet!  They  can't  kill  Him!" 

The  march  of  General  Sherman's  army  closed  with 
the  grand  review  at.  Washington.  It  was  a  sight  well 
worthy  of  that  illustrious  army.  The  day  was  beautiful ; 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  been  reviewed  the  day  be- 
fore; the  atmosphere  was  pleasant;  the  sun  shone  in  un- 
clouded splendor;  the  inscription  was  everywhere  seen, 
"The  only  national  debt  the  Nation  can  never  pay  is  that 
one  which  we  owe  our  soldiers."  All  the  avenues  were 
crowded;  the  great  generals,  Cabinet  officers,  and  gov- 
ernors were  seated  together;  the  diplomatic  corps  was 
near  them.  I  had  a  splendid  seat,  and  could  see  the 
sublime  movements.  The  display  was  the  most  magnifi- 
cent in  modern  times.  At  the  head  rode  General  Sher- 
man, with  his  staff;  he  was  greeted  with  cheers — such  a 
shout  was  never  heard.  Every  one  welcomed  the  heroes. 
The  universal  opinion  was,  that  there  never  was  such  an 
army.  A  wounded  soldier  handed  a  bouquet  to  General 
Sherman.  "Give  it  to  General  Howard,"  he  said.  The 
last  grand  scene  was  closed.  Every  American  who  saw 
it  felt  his  pulses  quicken.  He  will  never  see  such  another 
military  display.  Not  merely  two  hundred  thousand  men ; 
but  what  soldiers!  Who  would  not  rather  see  the  three 
hundred  of  Thermopylae  than  the  millions  of  Xerxes? 
It  is  not  because  two  hundred  thousand  are  in  uniform, 
but  because  they  are  heroes.  The  grand  pageant  was 
something  more  than  material  miles  of  gleaming  bayo- 
nets, and  the  long  rolling  thunder  of  parks  of  artillery, 
which  make  a  Republic.  National  pride  finds  a  deeper 
and  loftier  satisfaction  in  the  belief  that  this  great  array 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  103 

is  the  herald  of  a  new  era — an  era  of  peace ;  that  it  is  that 
which  gives  to  the  spectacle  its  moral  and  sublime  sig- 
nificance, beyond  all  Greek  and  Roman  fame. 

I  could  fill  many  pages  with  memorable  stories  of  the 
soldiers'  wit  and  humor  in  this  famous  compaign,  but  I 
have  only  space  for  a  few. 

There  was  a  chaplain  who  was  always  invited,  and 
who  never  failed  to  accompany  officers  in  their  tours  of 
observation.  One  day  this  chaplain  was  going  the  grand 
rounds  of  the  camps.  In  .the  course  of  his  travels  he  saw 
a  soldier  who  had  placed  his  musket  in  a  horizontal  po- 
sition, while  his  lips  were  applied  to  the  barrel.  "Stop! 
stop !  For  heaven's  sake  do  n't  shoot  yourself !"  shouted 
the  chaplain.  The  soldier  laid  down  the  musket  quietly. 
The  officer  walked  up  to  the  man,  and  smelled  some- 
thing stronger  than  water.  "What  were  you  going  to  do 
with  that  musket?  Did  you  mean  to  kill  yourself?"  asked 
the  chaplain.  "No,"  said  the  soldier,  "it  was  cleaning  the 
musket  I  was,  and  I  put  the  least  taste  of  whisky  into 
the  barrel  to  get  the  powder  out  of  it,  your  honor."  "I 
thought  the  musket  was  loaded,"  said  the  chaplain. 
"No,"  said  the  officer,  "it  was  the  man  who  was  loaded." 

When  General  Howard  was  marching  through  with 
us,  General  Whittlesey,  who  was  formerly  a  clergyman, 
but  now  was  General  Howard's  adjutant-general,  was  with 
him.  One  day,  General  Howard  drove  into  a  farmyard, 
from  which  General  Whittlesey  was  leaving.  A  woman 
and  her  daughter  were  standing  outside  the  door.  "My 
good  woman,  will  you  kindly  give  me  a  drink  of  water?" 
"No,  get  out  of  my  yard !  A  lot  of  more  impident  Yan- 
kees I  never  seed !"  "But  I  have  done  nothing."  "That 
sojer  insulted  me,"  pointing  to  General  Whittlesey.  "He 
axed  me  for  a  drink  of  water,  and  when  I  done  give  it  to 


104  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

him,  he  sassed  me."  "But — but — that  is  General  Whittle- 
sey,  of  my  staff — I  am  sure  not  a  rude  man."  "Maw," 
said  the  girl,  pulling  Tier  mother's  dress,  "I  reckon  he 
moughten  have  meant  anything  misbeholden."  "Hush! 
Do  n't  I  know  low-down,  blackguard  talk  when  I  hear 
it?  He  axed  me  what  was  the  State  of  my  nativity?" 

One  of  the  stragglers  came  up  to  a  rich  and  imposing 
Southern  residence.  The  lady  was  standing  in  the  door, 
and  saluted  him  with  the  greeting,  "Do  you  know,  sir, 
that  you  are  in  the  presence  of  the  Southern  chivalry?" 
"Yes,  madame,  and  do  n't  you  know  I  am  one  of  the 
shovelry  of  the  North?" 

The  fighting  of  the  gallant  8oth  Regiment  was  no 
mere  holiday  work,  but  real,  hard,  desperate  war.  Fre- 
quently the  contending  armies  would  encamp  in  reach  of 
each  other,  and  the  red  dawn  of  morning  shone  on  a 
redder  field.  The  battles  of  the  regiment  in  Mississippi 
alone  were  a  succession  of  victories.  Vicksburg,  where 
they  fought  forty  days,  and  where  they  verily  embraced 
death,  was  one  of  the  most  triumphant.  Although  at- 
tacked by  superior  numbers,  they,  with  their  characteristic 
enthusiasm,  parried  the  enemy,  until  the  banner  of  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  floated  proudly  in  the  breeze,  and  the 
whole  country  hailed  the  surrender  of  the  city  with  ex- 
clamations of  joy.  But  their  greatest  glory  was  at  Mis- 
sion Ridge,  where  they  fought  so  desperately  and  bravely 
that  in  only  a  few  hours  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  their 
men  had  fallen.  Among  them  was  my  first  lieutenant, 
John  Kinney,  a  Rebel  bullet  having  pierced  his  noble 
heart.  His  son  also  was  killed.  The  battle  of  Mission 
Ridge  will  be  forever  a  bright  spot  in  the  escutcheon  of 
the  Nation.  After  taking  part  in  several  other  engage- 
ments, the  regiment  followed  Sherman,  with  a  romantic 


ROUGH  SKETCHES    OF  ARMY  LIFE.  105 

chivalry,  in  his  March  to  the  Sea.  It  did  not  participate 
in  the  battle  of  the  22d  of  July,  before  Atlanta's  grim 
walls.  Nevertheless,  it  was  not  idle.  It  helped  to  win  the 
victory  of  Altoona  Pass,  when  the  brave,  patient  Corse 
was  the  victor.  After  the  battle  of  Bentonville,  the  last 
of  the  war,  this  regiment,  with  others,  forced  the  Con- 
federates to  fly  across  the  Neuse  River.  It  witnessed  the 
surrender  of  Johnston,  and  then  marched  to  Washington, 
where  it  was  reviewed  with  all  the  honors  of  war. 

A  word  as  to  a  few  of -the  officers,  whom  I  knew  per- 
sonally, may  be  of  interest  to  their  friends. 

The  colonel  of  the  regiment,  E.  R.  Eckley,  of  Carroll, 
was  a  lawyer.  He  had  come  from  the  farm,  studied  law, 
opened  an  office  in  Carroll,  and  soon  became  famous  as  a 
verdict  getter.  He  sat  for  six  years  in  the  halls  of  Con- 
gress, where  he  rendered  valuable  service  to  his  country. 
Such  a  man  was  worthy  to  be  colonel  of  such  a  regiment. 

Bartilson,  the  lieutenant-colonel,  was  a  good  fighter. 
He  died  covered  with  wounds  received  at  the  battle  of 
Corinth. 

Lanning,  the  major,  was  ever  foremost,  and  was  killed 
in  the  battle  of  Corinth  while  gallantly  leading  his  men. 

Major  David  Skeeles  was  a  Christian  gentleman,  and 
proved  that  the  highest  courage  was  not  incompatible 
with  a  manly  Christian  character.  He  used  to  repeat  the 
words  of  Montgomery  to  his  beautiful  wife  as  he  left  for 
Quebec,  "You  shall  never  be  ashamed  of  your  Mont- 
gomery !"  This  was  an  inspiration  to  the  gallant  Skeeles. 

Major  Thomas  C.  Morris  was  of  Quaker  descent.  His 
soldiership,  steadiness  in  battle,  and  coolness  in  danger, 
were  always  conspicuous  in  these  thrilling  times.  Frank 
Farmer,  H.  M.  Kirby,  I.  M.  Ross,  William  Hay,  George 
Maw,  and  McCall,  privates,  rose  from  the  ranks  and 


106  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

became  noted  for  their  happy  daring  and  indomitable 
firmness. 

Captain  Cochran  was  a  knightly  soldier  of  freedom 
and  righteousness,  calm,  and  yet,  in  danger,  how  prompt 
and  fearless! 

Major  Mathews,  never  boastful,  but  no  soldier  showed 
a  more  supreme  contempt  for  death,  proudly  facing  the 
rain  of  bullets,  and  bequeathing  lasting  memories  of  his 
ability  and  capacity. 

Captain  O.  B.  Powelson,  brave,  gallant,  and  chival- 
rous. His  wounds  bear  noble  testimony  to  his  patriotism, 
his  valor,  and  his  manhood. 

Captain  David  Korns  always  delighted  the  boys,  after 
a  day's  march,  with  stories  of  adventure.  He  was  gifted, 
generous,  and  brave  as  a  lion  to  fight;  but  showing  the 
courtesy  of  a  woman  to  the  weak  and  suffering.  Captain 
Korns  was  a  grand  specimen  of  a  gallant  and  sterling 
American. 

James  M.  Scott  was  a  good  soldier,  and  a  genial  and 
good-hearted  man. 

George  F.  Robinson  never  failed  to  make  a  gallant 
fight.  He  always  showed  himself  to  be  a  man  of  broad 
views,  enlightened  politics,  and  large  toleration. 

Captain  William  Marshall  was  the  best  student  of  mili- 
tary tactics  in  the  regiment.  He  was  intelligent,  critical,. 
and  a  soldier — brave  to  a  fault. 

Captain  Deis,  a  solid  and  unostentatious  boy,  always 
picked  out  his  man,  and  then  went  for  him.  The  tougher 
the  battle,  the  more  merciless  the  fire;  there  Chris  Deis 
loved  to  be,  and  there  he  was  in  his  glory. 

Captain  Daniel  J.  Hildt  was  a  fine  specimen  of  a  sol- 
dier, and  his  career  was  glorious.  He  was  the  very  pink 
and  flower  of  a  dashing  cavalier. 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  107 

Captain  James  Carnes  was  a  character !  He  had  been 
a  soldier  in  the  Mexican  War,  and  came  into  the  regiment 
stamped  with  the  seal  of  success.  A  generous,  jolly,  cour- 
ageous fellow  was  Carnes. 

Young  Robinson,  who  was  killed  at  Corinth,  was  a 
real  soldier.  Everything  associated  with  his  memory  is 
hailed  with  a  loving  reverence.  The  quartermaster, 
Clark  Robinson,  was  also  an  admirable  man.  The  poorest 
soldier  complaining  of  his  rations  never  failed  to  find  a 
champion  in  him. 

Dr.  Buell  was  a  model  surgeon,  intelligent,  bold,  and 
capable.  Though  quiet  and  unostentatious  in  his  actions, 
his  treatment  was  scientific  and  skillful.  Dr.  Lee  was 
wise,  prompt,  and  sympathetic.  Dr.  Buvinger  had  a 
mind  to  analyze  and  a  hand  to  execute  the  most  difficult 
cases.  Dr.  Tope  was  equally  efficient  and  successful. 

I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  Colonel  Metham;  but  a 
word  here  will  be  in  order.  The  whole  regiment  speaks 
with  great  pleasure  of  his  fearlessness,  of  his  heroism,  of 
his  absolute  disregard  of  death.  The  regiment  was  fortu- 
nate in  its  division  and  brigade  commanders.  General 
Raum,  the  division  commander,  possessed  iron  hardihood 
of  body,  a  quick  and  sure  vision,  a  well-stored  mind,  and 
a  courageous  heart.  He  was,  as  a  commander,  unsur- 
passed. He  possessed  that  rare  faculty  of  coming  to 
prompt  and  sure  conclusions  in  the  presence  of  great 
emergencies.  He  is  an  able  lawyer — there  is.no  quackery 
in  his  arguments.  He  has  been  in  Congress,  and  was  at 
one  time  Commissioner  of  Pensions.  General  Raum  is 
a  graceful  speaker,  and  in  private  life  a  pleasant  and  com- 
panionable gentleman. 

Honorable  mention  might  be  made  of  the  companion 
regiments  of  the  Both  Ohio;  namely  the  56th  Illinois, 


108  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Colonel  Hall,  and  the  I7th  Iowa,  Colonels  Weaver, 
Archer,  and  Roper.. 

Captain  Isaac  Ulman,  of  Company  A,  was  every  inch 
a  soldier  and  a  gentleman.  When  the  opportunity  oc- 
curred, he  fought  with  courage  and  gallantry.  James 
McBain,  sober  as  a  judge,  cool  and  collected,  but,  when 
danger  was  nigh,  brave  as  Caesar.  I  regret  that  I  have 
not  a  list  of  the  heroic  enlisted  men — such  men  as  Charles 
G.  McClure,  Joseph  Finley,  Thomas  J.  Cook,  A.  C.  Rick- 
etts.  Though  no  star  or  eagle  decorated  their  shoulders, 
they  fought  with  a  bravery  worthy  of  the  best  traditions 
of  American  heroism. 

The  Soth  Ohio  was  mustered  in  between  January  i 
and  October  21,  1862,  in  Columbus  and  Cincinnati,  and 
was  mustered  out  at  Little  Rock,  Arkansas,  August  13, 
1865.  I  organized  my  company,  and  reported  with  it  at 
Camp  Meigs,  Ohio,  November  15,  1861.  I  was  appointed 
captain  of  this  company  January  7,  1862.  I  resigned,  on 
account  of  ill-health,  in  June  of  the  same  year,  and  on 
December  3,  1863,  was  appointed  chaplain  of  the  regi- 
ment. I  remained  with  it  for  three  years,  or  until  it  was 
mustered  out  in  1865. 

I  append  here  the  letter  requesting  my  appointment 
as  chaplain  of  the  8oth  Ohio  Volunteer  Infantry : 

PETITION  OF  MEMBERS   OF   THE   EIGHTIETH   O.  V.  I.  FOR 
MY  APPOINTMENT  AS  CHAPLAIN  OF  THAT  REGIMENT. 

"HEADQUARTERS  EIGHTIETH  O.  V.  I.,      \ 
DIXON  STATION,  ALA.,  Oct.  27,  1863.  / 

"HON.  DAVID  TOD,  GOVERNOR  OF  OHIO: 

"Sir, — We,  the  undersigned,  commissioned  officers  of 
the  8oth  Ohio  Volunteer  Infantry,  respectfully  ask  that 
you  commission  Rev.  George  W.  Pepper  chaplain  of  the 
regiment.  Reverend  Pepper  was  elected  captain  of  Com- 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  1 09 

pany  H,  8oth  Ohio  Volunteer  Infantry,  at  the  time  of  its 
organization,  and  served  in  that  capacity  with  distinction 
to  himself  and  great  credit  to  the  cause,  until,  from  ill- 
health,  he  was  compelled  to  resign.  By  appointing  him 
chaplain  of  this  regiment,  you  will  but  reward  merit  and 
gratify  all  concerned. 

FRANCIS  H.  FARMER,  Capt.  Co.  D. 

JAMES  CARNES,  Capt.  Co.  B. 

H.  M.  KIRBY,  ist  Lieut.  Co.  E. 

THOMAS  C.  MORRIS,  Capt.  Co.  K. 

OLIVER  C.  POWELSON,  ist.  Lieut.  Co.  A. 

JOHN  KINNEY,  Capt.  Co.  H. 

J.  M.  Ross,  ist  Lieut.  Co.  K. 

WM.  HAY,  ist  Lieut.  Co.  — . 

GEORGE  F.  ROBINSON,  ist  Lieut.  Co.  C. 

GEORGE  MAW, — . 


"Approved  :     PREN.  METHAM,  Lieut.  Col.  Soth  O.  V.  I." 

"HEADQUARTERS   EIGHTIETH   O.   V.    1 

GOLDSBORO,  N.  C.,  April  7,  1865 


"REV.  GEORGE  w.  PEPPER: 

"Dear  Sir, — I  can  not  take  leave  of  my  old  regiment 
without  bearing  willing  testimony  to  your  Christian  char- 
acter as  a  minister,  to  your  devotion  to  the  work  of  your 
profession  as  a  chaplain,  to  your  courage  and  patriotism 
as  a  soldier  of  the  United  States.  I  have  seen  you  on  the 
march,  in  camp,  and  on  the  tented  field,  and  have  never 
seen  anything  in  your  conduct  inconsistent  with  your 
profession  of  Christianity.  Our  intercourse  in  the  dis- 
charge of  our  mutual  duties  has  been  cordial  and  har- 
monious, and  my  grief  in  parting  from  you  and  my  noble 
regiment  is  poignant. 

"PREN.  METHAM,  Col.  of  the  Soth  Ohio." 

GENERAL  NELSON  A.  MILES. 

"WHY  wait  until  great  men  are  under  the  sod  to 
render  honor  to  their  virtues  and  attainments?"  wrote 
the  Italian,  Bovio ;  and  "Why,  indeed,"  I  repeat  to  myself, 


110  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

"should  words  of  praise  and  appreciation  be  held  back 
until  the  ears  that  should  hear  them  are  closed  forever  to 
mortal  sound?  Why  not  speak  them  to  ears  vibrating 
with  life,  that  they  may  know  the  world  honors,  and  ap- 
preciates, and  loves  them  for  their  services  to  mankind? 
It  is  for  this  reason,  this  beautiful  idea  of  honoring  the 
living,  that  I  have  spoken  openly  of  men  who  are  living 
to-day.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  speak  of  a  soldier 
whose  gallant  conduct  was  signalized  on  every  battle- 
field of  Virginia,  General  Nelson  A.  Miles,  General 
of  the  Army.  He  was  my  colonel  in  the  regular  army 
nearly  thirty  years  ago,  when  I  learned  to  honor  the 
sturdy  strength  and  nobility  of  his  character;  and  I  have 
watched  his  rising  career  with  interest  all  these  years. 
He  belongs  to  that  class  of  men  who  are  made  for  an 
era ;  original  in  thought  and  courageous  in  the  expression 
of  it;  a  hater  of  mere  conventionalities,  and  superior  to 
the  meaner  cupidities  that  influence  lesser  minds 

He  is  courageous,  but  not  reckless  in  the  execution  of 
his  plans.  Courage  and  recklessness  are  two  very  differ- 
ent things;  for  the  one  is  the  virtue  of  the  wise  man,  the 
other  the  vice  of  the  fool.  Accordingly,  when  a  wise  man 
or  a  fool  encounters  the  same  risk,  there  is  a  disparity  be- 
tween the  stakes  which  they  severally  bring  to  the  cost. 
The  one  hazards  an  immense  train  of  consequences,  duly 
weighed  and  estimated — much  cost,  much  pain,  and  many 
obstacles,  calmly  contemplated  and  felt  in  anticipation; 
the  other,  only  some  baseless  conjectures,  some  idle 
dreamings  of  what  may  possibly  happen.  It  was  there- 
fore a  sober  truth,  though  only  meant  for  a  jest,  when, 
after  a  battle,  a  soldier  claimed  credit  for  more  heroism 
than  his  comrades,  because,  while  they  professed  indiffer- 
ence to  danger,  he  had  himself  been  horribly  frightened, 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  Ill 

and  yet  had  not  run  away.  It  may  be  honestly  said  of 
Miles  that,  although  possessed  of  the  most  brilliant  mili- 
tary talents,  he  never  rushed  into  battle  with  reckless 
haste,  but  with  all  his  plans  of  action  prepared ;  and  it  was 
for  this  reason  that,  as  a  soldier  and  fighter  and  winner  of 
battles,  he  obtained  great  successes,  and  was  everywhere 
distinguished  by  some  daring  action.  His  bravery  pro- 
cured him  the  approval  of  his  superior  officers,  and  se- 
cured promotion  after  promotion.  His  intense  tenacity 
of  purpose  was  certainly  heroic.  In  that  quality  he  may 
compare  favorably  with  the  most  famous  soldiers  of  an- 
tiquity. The  battle-fields  of  Virginia  were  the  true  thea- 
ters of  his  glory,  because  it  was  there  he  displayed  his 
best  quality  most  advantageously.  But  it  is  not  only  as 
a  soldier  that  General  Miles  excelled,  for  he  was  equally 
successful  in  the  administration  of  civil  affairs  in  the  re- 
construction of  the  South.  His  judgment  was  correct, 
and  he  always  exercised  a  tender  magnanimity  to  the  con- 
quered, calling,  in  chanty,  that  angel  whose  presence  will 
pass  by  even  camps,  to  supplement  the  laws.  In  his  bat- 
tles with  the  Indians  he  united  skill  with  experience,  and 
asserted  before  the  world  the  supremacy  of  American  mili- 
tary genius  by  conquering  these  fierce  and  formidable 
tribes.  It  is  only  necessary  to  mention  such  facts  to  ad- 
minister a  fitting  rebuke  to  those  foreign  writers  who 
attempt  to  ignore  the  claims  of  America  to  a  military 
reputation  unsurpassed  by  any  other  country  in  the  world. 
At  the  close  of  the  Rebellion,  General  Miles  was  in- 
trusted with  the  difficult  and  delicate  management  of 
Fortress  Monroe,  where  many  of  the  Confederate  pris- 
oners were  confined,  among  them  being  Jefferson  Davis 
and  John  Mitchell ;  and  he  proved  himself  equally  capable 
in  civil  affairs  as  in  the  field.  I  once  heard  John  Mitchell, 


112  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

a  most  pronounced  Rebel  and  a  determined  abuser  of  the 
Yankees,  say  that  "Miles  is  the  most  decent  Yankee  I 
ever  knew."  Miles  has  told  me  that  he  had  friendly  feel- 
ings for  the  Irishman,  because  he  was  once  a  comrade  of 
General  Meagher  in  the  Irish  revolution.  But  such  was 
Mitchell's  unconquered  and  unconquerable  nature  that  he 
would  receive  no  favor  from  the  Federal  Government. 
His  voice  was  still  for  war  against  the  hated  Yankees. 

I  was  present  at  General  Miles's  marriage  to  one  of 
Ohio's  most  accomplished  daughters,  Miss  Sherman.  It 
was  a  brilliant  wedding.  Generals  Sherman  and  Sheridan, 
and  other  distinguished  men,  were  present. 

General  Miles  has  been  ambitious  (I  speak  of  him 
when  I  knew  him  twenty  years  ago)  to  be  an  orator. 
Then  he  was  remarkably  shy,  and  I  have  seen  him  blush 
to  the  roots  of  his  hair  like  a  school-girl.  As  a  speaker, 
he  thinks  carefully  and  earnestly,  and  when  he  speaks  it 
is  natural  and  without  any  use  of  rhetorical  flowers.  His 
Decoration-day  address  at  Boston  a  year  ago  ranks  with 
the  best  efforts  of  the  kind.  The  secrets  of  his  distinc- 
tion are  to  be  found  in  his  self-control,  in  his  constant 
study,  in  his  tenacity,  and  in  his  love  of  labor.  He  has 
much  of  the  bulldog  and  the  mastiff  in  his  nature.  For- 
tune is  not  his  mistress,  but  rather  his  servant;  when  he 
commands,  she  obeys.  In  Raleigh,  where  his  regiment 
was  stationed  for  three  years,  and  where  I  was  chaplain 
of  the  same  regiment,  I  had  many  opportunities  of  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  General  Miles,  and  I  can  indorse, 
from  what  I  saw  of  him  in  private  and  social  life,  that  he 
was  at  home  what  he  was  in  public  life — respected  as  a 
man,  reverenced  as  a  host,  and  loved  as  a  friend. 

General  Miles's  name  will  descend  the  deepening 
stream  of  history  as  one  of  the  most  gallant,  successful, 


GENERAL  NELSON  A.  MILES. 


ROUGH  SKETCHES  OF  ARMY  LIFE.  113 

and  kind-hearted  chiefs  of  the  Civil  War.  He  need  not 
care  by  what  pen  his  life  may  be  written.  Through  the 
hard-fought  fields  of  Virginia  and  Pennsylvania,  in  the 
trying  services  of  reconstruction,  amidst  the  engagements 
with  the  fierce  tribes  of  the  West,  no  record  of  oppression, 
of  injustice,  of  inhumanity  to  those  whom  he  commanded, 
or  to  those  whom  he  vanquished,  will  sully  one  page  of 
the  biography  of  as  brave,  as  generous,  as  chivalrous  a 
soldier  as  ever  led  American  troops  to  victory.  The 
wedded  life  of  the  General  has  been  blissful  and  happy. 
He  is  blessed  with  a  wife  who  is  not  only  gifted  with  high 
intelligence  and  numberless  graces,  but  her  whole  time 
and  affections  are  devoted  to  the  comfort  and  happiness 
of  her  distinguished  husband,  in  whose  achievements  she 
takes  the  greatest  pride.  Her  soul,  her  good  heart,  her 
attractions,  are  to  him  as  eyes  and  hands.  She  is  the 
communicating  spirit  between  her  husband  and  his  hosts 
of  friends.  She  anticipates  his  every  want.  If  General 
Miles  is  fortunate  in  his  own  military  genius,  he  is  more 
fortunate  in  the  genius  of  his  wife,  who  makes  his  home 
a  dream  of  domestic  happiness. 


Chapter  VI. 

RETURN   TO  WORK   IN   THE  MINISTRY— RECON- 
STRUCTION   IN    THE    SOUTH  —  PASTORAL 
APPOINTMENTS— FREDERICK  DOUG- 
LASS'S REMINISCENCES. 

T  RE-ENTERED  the  North  Ohio  Conference,  or  rather 
1  I  was  assigned  to  the  old  work  of  preaching,  on  my 
return  from  the  war;  I  had  never  been  out  of  the  Con- 
ference. After  filling  several  pulpits  upon  circuits,  I  was 
appointed  to  Wellington,  which  now  had  become  a  sta- 
tion. It  was  my  first  field  among  the  Yankees  of  the 
Western  Reserve.  Bishop  Simpson  appointed  me  to  this 
place,  and  when  I  expressed  my  surprise  that  so  important 
an  appointment  should  be  given  to  me,  he  said  that  a 
patriotic  speech  which  I  had  made  a  few  years  before  at 
the  Conference  session  held  there,  had  endeared  me  to 
the  people,  and  they  requested  it. 

It  was  a  good  year.  There  was  a  great  revival;  but 
the  old  church  was  in  bad  condition,  the  rain  pouring  in 
through  the  ceiling.  At  the  close  of  the  meetings,  I 
preached  a  sermon  from  the  text,  "Is  it  right  for  you  to 
dwell  in  your  ceiled  houses,  and  this  house  lie  waste?" 
The  appeal  brought  forth  a  subscription  of  fifteen  thou- 
sand dollars — not  a  bad  beginning  for  one  day's  work. 

Wellington  was  a  flourishing  little  town,  the  head- 
quarters of  the  cheese  industry.  Many  of  its  prominent 
citizens  were  members  or  attendants  of  my  Church.  The 
Houghtons  were  a  numerous  and  honored  family.  So 
were  the  Horrs,  the  Walcotts,  the  Langs,  the  Woolleys, 

114 


RETURN  TO    WORK  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  115 

the  Richards,  the  Dicksons,  the  Howks,  the  Laundons, 
the  Stroups,  and  S.  S.  Warner,  whose  popularity  made 
him  State  treasurer  three  times  in  succession.  Colonel 
M.  T.  Herrick,  the  Cleveland  banker,  also  came  from 
Wellington.  He  was  but  a  boy  in  those  days,  a  very 
bright  boy — especially  in  arithmetical  studies — and  was 
known  as  the  "calculating  boy." 

The  Congregational  Church  was  quite  strong  in  Well- 
ington, and  numbered  in  its  membership  many  of  the 
leading  citizens.  Mr.  II,ane,  a  returned  missionary,  was 
the  respected  pastor.  The  Disciples  had  a  strong  follow- 
ing also  in  the  little  city.  James  A.  Garfield,  afterwards 
President  of  the  United  States,  had  recently  dedicated 
their  handsome  new  church,  and  frequently  preached 
there. 

Near  Wellington  is  Penfield,  a  typical  New  England 
village.  I  was  appointed  pastor  here,  and  was  warmly 
welcomed  by  these  sons  of  New  England.  I  never  met  a 
more  intelligent,  a  more  benevolent,  a  more  religious 
class  of  people.  A  revival  of  great  proportions  followed. 
There  were  two  hundred  additions  made  to  the  Church — 
there  was  scarcely  a  family  that  was  not  reached.  My 
family  was  residing  in  Wellington,  and  I  usually  returned 
home  every  night  after  the  services.  I  remember,  one 
day,  a  venerable  Disciple  preacher  greeted  me  with  the 
salutation:  "Well,  Brother  Pepper,  I  presume  you  feel 
like  Alexander  when  he  wept  for  other  worlds  to  con- 
quer." As  a  result  of  this  revival  nine  new  classes  were 
formed.  I  think  often  of  the  good  people  of  Penfield — 
the  Starrs,  the  Nortons,  the  Smiths,  the  Hayses. 

Huntington,  another  partly  New  England  commu- 
nity, was  attached  to  the  Penfield  work.  Here  resided  a 
retired  Congregational  minister,  Father  Clarke,  beloved 


Il6  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

by  all.  His  good  wife,  many  a  night  after  I  was  ex- 
hausted with  my  labors,  would  entertain  me  with  a  sub- 
stantial second  supper.  I  remember  the  Haskins,  the 
Spragues.  Not  long  ago  I  was  lecturing  at  Lorain,  when 
the  principal  of  the  schools,  with  a  warm  shake  of  the 
hand,  recalled  the  pleasant  incident  that  he  was  converted 
at  the  Hunting-ton  revival.  It  was  Professor  Ward,  of 
Lorain. 

It  was  while  I  was  still  preaching  in  this  section  of  the 
country  that  I  was  appointed  chaplain  in  the  regular 
army.  There  were  one  hundred  candidates;  but  General 
John  A.  Logan's  strong  influence  and  Secretary  Stanton's 
remembrance  of  my  having  raised  a  company  for  the  war 
upon  Sunday,  quickly  decided  the  contest  in  my  favor. 
The  regiment  was  the  4Oth  Infantry.  Nelson  A.  Miles, 
now  the  ranking  general  of  the  army,  was  colonel.  The 
regiment  was  stationed  in  Raleigh,  North  Carolina.  My 
duties  were  light,  and  Colonel  Miles  proved  himself  to  be 
a  good  friend. 

The  old  hatreds  and  prejudices  were  fresh  in  the  minds 
of  the  people.  One  Sunday,  when  I  went  to  Church  with 
my  wife,  I  was  assigned  to  a  seat  by  the  usher.  In  a  few 
minutes  a  woman  came  and  unceremoniously  ordered  us 
out.  The  rector,  Dr.  Mason,  afterwards  apologized.  He 
was  a  Union  man  throughout  the  war,  and  was  a  cour- 
teous gentleman. 

After  some  time  I  was  made  assistant  superintendent 
of  the  Freedmen's  Bureau,  which  compelled  me  to  visit 
every  county  in  the  State,  speaking  and  instructing  the 
colored  people  in  the  organization  of  schools.  General 
O.  O.  Howard's  instructions  were,  that  for  every  hun- 
dred dollars  the  colored  people  raised,  the  Bureau  would 
advance  another  hundred.  It  was  a  dangerous  experi- 


RECONSTRUCTION  IN  THE  SOUTH.  ll'J 

ment.  At  Salisbury,  while  I  was  speaking  and  stating  the 
proposition  of  the  Government,  a  burly  ex-Rebel  became 
so  enraged  that  he  bounded  on  the  platform  with  a  huge 
knife,  aiming  to  plunge  it  into  my  throat.  One  of  the 
vice-presidents,  a  colored  man,  seized  the  fellow,  and 
hurled  him  from  the  platform. 

I  delivered  an  address  the  next  evening  at  Charlotte 
with  more  safety.  And  thus  I  passed  from  county  to 
county,  sometimes  riding  five  or  fifty  miles  in  a  rickety 
old  wagon,  driven  always  by  a  colored  man,  frequently 
passing  groups  of  ex-Confederate  soldiers.  I  was  heartily 
glad  when  the  labor  was  over,  and  I  returned  to  the  shel- 
ter of  the  soldiers  at  Raleigh. 

I  participated  in  the  reconstruction  of  the  State,  re- 
porting the  proceedings  for  the  Cincinnati  Commercial,  the 
New  York  Times,  and  the  New  York  Tribune.  I  became 
acquainted  with  a  member  of  the  Legislature,  who  after- 
wards became  famous  as  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  "Fool's 
Errand,"  and  who  was  murdered  by  the  Ku-Klux.  I  knew 
Judge  Albion  W.  Tourgee,  who  was  then  living  at  Greens- 
boro, where  he  had  many  opportunities  to  gather  the 
materials  for  his  book,  which  is  literally  true.  Mr. 
Stevens,  the  murdered  man,  the  member  of  the  Legis- 
lature decoyed  from  his  home,  with  the  kisses  of  his  wife 
and  children  fresh  upon  his  lips,  was  taken  to  the  court- 
house, under  the  plea  of  urgent  business,  and  there  cruelly 
murdered.  Not  one  of  the  infamous  scoundrels  who  per- 
petrated this  crime  was  punished.  The  blood  of  Stevens 
rests  upon  their  consciences,  and  it  will  remain  forever. 
When  Mr.  Holden  was  elected  governor  of  the  State,  he 
asked  me  to  become  editor  of  the  Raleigh  Standard,  the 
State's  Republican  organ,  which  position  I  accepted. 

I  delivered  the  oration  upon  the  Fourth  of  July  before 


Jl8  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

a  large  audience.  This  was  the  first  Union  meeting, 
since  the  war,  in  any  Southern  State.  The  sentiments  of 
good  will  which  pervaded  the  address  touched  the  South- 
ern heart,  and  especially  the  kind  references  to  General 
Robert  E.  Lee  were  gratefully  appreciated.  Many  of  the 
Southern  papers  copied  copious  extracts,  and  expressed 
admiration  for  the  Federal  chaplain  who,  when  the  North- 
ern press  was  breathing  out  denunciation  and  demanding 
the  execution  of  the  leaders  and  the  confiscation  of 
Southern  land,  had  the  courage  and  the  magnanimity  to 
say  that  no  thorns  should  be  planted  where  the  olive  had 
taken  root.  This  oration  is  published  in  this  volume,  and 
although  at  the  time  it  was  severely  criticised,  the  spirit 
which  it  breathed  of  mercy  to  the  conquered  has  become 
the  sentiment  of  the  whole  Nation. 

While  in  Raleigh  I  met  Chief- Justice  Chase,  Presi- 
dent Andrew  Johnson,  Secretary  Seward,  and  John  W. 
Forney,  of  Washington,  then  editor  of  the  Philadelphia 
Press.  The  President  came  to  Raleigh  to  participate  in 
the  services  of  the  dedication  of  a  monument  to  his  father, 
a  humble  man,  who  lost  his  life  in  rescuing  a  fellow- 
laborer  from  drowning.  I  conversed  with  him,  and  found 
him  simple  and  occasionally  brusque  in  his  manners,  but 
always  the  true  specimen  of  a  patriotic  American.  He 
was  full  of  indignation  at  England,  and,  referring  to  the 
Fenian  invasion  of  Canada,  said,  in  words  not  very  relig- 
ious, but  very  fierce :  ".  .  .  I  gave  them  five  days,  after 
I  heard  of  their  contemplated  movement,  and  if  they  had 
had  a  leader  worth  anything,  they  might  have  marched 
on  and  captured  Toronto." 

En  route  to  Chapel  Hill,  Commencement-day  at  the 
university,  Mr.  Seward  got  out  of  his  carriage  and  walked 
a  mile.  He  was  very  communicative,  speaking  of  the 


RESIGNATION  PRESENTED.  119 

war  and  the  reconstruction  of  the  South.  He  was  in 
thorough  accord  with  General  W.  T.  Sherman,  and 
praised  him  for  his  liberal  terms  to  General  Joseph  E. 
Johnston,  when  he  received  the  surrender  of  the  Con- 
federate general's  army.  I  made  reference  to  the  assassi- 
nation of  Lincoln  and  his  own  narrow  escape  from  death. 
"Yes,  that  wound  hurts  me  yet.  What  madmen  and 
fools  those  unfortunate  wretches  were  to  murder  the  good, 
gentle,  and  kind-hearted  Lincoln !  Why,  I  have  seen 
him  rush  away  and  hide,  himself  when  his  signature  was 
asked  for  an  execution  of  a  soldier,  or  for  any  heavy  pun- 
ishment upon  the  Rebels  in  arms,  or  upon  their  Northern 
sympathizers.  Yes,  Chaplain,  the  good  Lincoln  shall  al- 
ways remain  the  chief  glory  of  our  country,  distinguished 
by  benevolence  of  the  highest  order,  and  his  treatment  of 
this  unpatriotic  people  rose  to  a  lofty  magnanimity  which 
has  never  been  approached." 

I  remained  in  this  State  until  the  regiment  was  or- 
dered to  Arizona.  My  family  were  living  in  Ohio,  and, 
although  the  temptations  to  remain  in  the  regular  army 
were  many — a  life  position  and  a  two-thirds  salary  for 
life  after  being  retired — I  determined  to  resign.  Remon- 
strances came  from  many,  one  from  Bishop  Janes,  saying 
that,  as  the  Methodists  had  only  a  few  chaplains  in  the 
army,  I  ought  to  remain.  So  also  thought  Bishop  Simp- 
son; but  I  could  not  endure  the  monotony  of  army  life. 
I  wanted  to  be  more  active,  and  longed  for  the  great  work 
of  preaching.  I  presented  my  resignation.  General  Sher- 
man, who  was  never  extravagant  in  his  praise  of  army 
chaplains,  begged  me  to  remain,  to  wait  a  few  years,  and 
I  could  be  retired;  that  my  services  to  the  Government 
demanded  recognition.  But  my  mind  was  made  up,  and  I 
insisted  upon  an  absolute  resignation.  The  general  was 


120  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

then  acting  Secretary  of  War,  and  he  gave  me  a  year's 
leave;  not  a  leave  of  absence  proper,  but  an  order  to  re- 
turn home,  and  remain  there  upon  waiting  orders.  This 
gave  me  full  pay.  I  was,  notwithstanding  all  my  pro- 
tests, appointed  chaplain  of  the  loth  Cavalry;  but  this, 
too,  I  declined.  I  was  allowed  a  full  year's  salary. 

I  was  next  appointed  to  Wooster,  in  1870,  one  of  the 
largest  Churches  in  the  Conference.  It  was  a  difficult 
Church,  and  required  patience  and  practical  knowledge. 
The  old  members  were  very  conservative,  and  opposed 
to  any  innovations.  They  believed  a  two  years'  pastorate 
was  long  enough.  There  were  many  able  men  at  the 
Wooster  bar  at  this  time,  who  frequently  dropped  into  the 
church,  and  whose  presence  stimulated  the  preacher  to 
study  and  activity.  I  often  met  John  McSweeney,  a  law- 
yer of  wide  reputation,  and  whose  bar  triumphs  are  known 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  To  secure 
his  services  in  any  case  was  a  sure  evidence  of  winning 
the  case.  As  to  his  oratorical  ability,  he  was  compared 
to  such  men  as  John  Van  Buren,  Thomas  Corwin,  and 
others.  Wendell  Phillips  once  said  to  me  that  he  had 
heard  the  best  speakers  in  Boston,  and  for  art,  logic,  and 
effective  appeals  to  a  jury,  McSweeney,  whom  he  had 
heard  in  Ohio,  was  their  equal,  and  \vas  surpassed  by 
none  of  them.  His  mantle  fell  upon  his  gifted  son.  There 
were,  also,  Dowell,  Jeffries,  McClure,  the  Givens — two 
brothers  who  entered  the  army,  and  won  renown  as  brave 
soldiers.  Critchfield  was  regarded  as  McSweeney's  rival, 
and  if  verdicts  of  juries  are  a  proof  of  a  lawyer's  ability, 
then  he  was  among  the  most  successful.  Judge  Martin 
Welker  was  also  a  resident  of.  Wooster.  He  was  a  valued 
and  respected  member  of  Congress.  I  might  also  refer 
to  Eshelman,  the  able  editor;  the  Mullins,  the  Carrs,  the 


FREDERICK  DOUGLASS'S  REMINISCENCES.  121 

Kaukes,  Judge  Parsons,  the  Firestones,  Pricks,  Bissels, 
and  Smysers. 

This  reference  to  my  Wooster  friends  would  be  in- 
complete did  it  not  refer  with  gratitude  to  the  kindness 
shown  us  throughout  our  residence  there  by  the  estimable 
and  accomplished  family  of  Mr.  J.  B.  Powers. 

While  I  was  here  I  renewed  the  old  acquaint- 
anceship of  other  years  with  my  friend,  D.  Q.  Liggett. 
He  was  a  successful  business  man,  a  liberal  benefactor  to 
every  good  cause.  He  afterwards  built  a  new  church, 
largely  £t  his  own  expense.  B.  Barrett  was  another  of 
the  same  Church,  who  was  also  a  good  citizen,  an  enter- 
prising business  man,  and  an  honor  to  the  community. 
Dr.  M.  K.  Hard  was  for  years  a  prominent  physician,  and 
also  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  filling  many  pulpits  with 
rare  ability.  Dr.  Gann  came  there  after  my  first  pastorate, 
and  united  with  the  new  Church.  It  was  not  long  until, 
by  constant  application  in  his  profession,  he  rose  to  be 
among  the  first  physicians  in  the  city.  He  it  was  who 
ministered  to  Mr.  McSweeney  in  his  last  illness,  and  he 
tells  an  anecdote  that  illustrates  the  lawyer's  knowledge 
of  Methodist  hymns.  He  used  to  tell  me  he  grew  fat 
upon  ten  of  these  hymns.  Dr.  Gann  was  visiting  him, 
and,  as  there  were  many  sick,  he  said,  "My  conscience 
reproaches  me,  Mr.  McSweeney,  for  visiting  you  so 
often."  The  dying  man  quickly  responded,  "Let  not  con- 
science bid  you  linger." 

It  was  while  I  was  pastor  of  the  Wooster  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  that  the  colored  orator,  Frederick 
Douglass,  lectured  upon  San  Domingo.  For  an  evening 
he  was  my  guest,  and  of  the  many  incidents  which  he  told 
me  of  his  history,  I  recall  this  thrilling  one.  He  said: 
"Mr.  Pepper,  you  lecture  upon  Ireland.  I  have  read  the 


122  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

lecture  entitled,  'Ireland — Liberty  Springs  from  her  Mar- 
tyrs' Blood.'  In  it  you  speak  of  my  reception  in  Cork 
and  Dublin,  and  in  Belfast;  but  here  is  something  that 
has  never  been  published.  When  I  was  a  slave,  sixteen 
years  of  age,  I  had  never  seen  a  ship,  and  I  told  my  mis- 
tress that  I  would  like  to  go  to  Baltimore  and  see  one. 
She  gave  me  permission,  and  I  walked  the  sixteen  miles, 
and  went  down  to  the  harbor,  where  I  saw  the  object  that 
had  always  excited  my  curiosity.  Two  Irishmen  were 
unloading  heavy  timbers,  and  I  helped  them.  When  I 
was  leaving,  one  of  them  said  to  me,  'Are  you  a  slave,  sir?' 
'Yes,'  I  replied.  The  other  whispered  to  me,  'Why  do 
you  not  run  away?  God  never  made  a  man  to  be  a  slave/ 
Every  step  I  walked  that  night  I  could  hear  the  words: 
'Why  do  you  not  run  away?  God  never  made  a  man  to 
be  a  slave.'  I  dreamed  them  during  the  night.  You  know 
the  result.  I  did  run  away;  and  when  I  get  to  heaven  I 
will  search  for  those  two  Irishmen,  take  them  to  my  Sa- 
vior, and  say,  'Here  are  the  men  who  first  told  me  that 
God  never  made  a  man  to  be  a  slave.' ' 

After  remaining  in  Wooster  two  years,  I  was  assigned 
to  Galion  in  the  fall  of  1872.  While  at  Wooster,  the  en- 
tire family  at  home — the  two  oldest  boys  were  away — 
suffered  from  a  severe  attack  of  small-pox.  The  par- 
sonage at  Wooster  was  situated  in  a  part  of  the  town 
called  the  "Five  Points,"  on  account  of  the  character,  or 
non-character,  of  the  residents,  and  in  imitation  of  the 
famous  "Five  Points"  of  New  York.  A  traveling  show- 
man brought  the  disease  into  the  neighborhood,  and  in 
all  that  portion  of  the  town  not  one  house  escaped  the 
pest.  In  my  own  family  there  were  five  sufferers.  One 
of  my  sons,  who  was  sent  away  from  the  house,  on  the  na- 
ture of  the  disease  which  had  attacked  the  other  children 


PASTORAL  MEMORIES.  123 

becoming  known,  wandered  the  streets  in  the  daytime, 
and  at  night  slept  in  the  churchyard,  so  great  was  the 
panic.  At  last  a  humane  hotel-keeper  opened  his  doors 
to  him ;  but  as  his  chanty  lost  him  every  other  guest,  my 
son  would  not  remain,  and  returned  to  the  churchyard, 
when  a  kindly  Christian  family — already  referred  to — that 
of  Mr.  James  B.  Powers,  took  him  in,  and  kept  hirrt  until 
the  danger  was  past,  and  it  was  safe  for  him  to  return 
home.  I  myself  and  four  children  had  the  disease,  and, 
as  it  was  impossible  to  procure  nurses  for  several  weeks, 
my  noble  wife  struggled  along  alone  under  a  burden  that 
would  have  crushed  a  less  brave  and  courageous  nature. 
But  our  lives  were  all  spared. 

When  I  went  to  Galion,  I  had  barely  recovered  from 
the  terrible  disease.  The  members  of  the  new  charge 
received  me  with  every  ^demonstration  of  affection.  Dur- 
ing the  year  an  extensive  revival  broke  out  in  the  Church, 
and  hundreds  were  added  to  the  membership  of  the  Meth- 
odist Church.  The  revival  continued  for  sixteen  weeks. 
All  ages  were  reached,  and  the  effect  was  marvelous.  I 
had  preached  for  four  weeks,  without  any  marked  sign 
of  a  revival,  when  a  Mr.  Crim,  a  banker  of f the  city,  rose 
for  prayers — I  think  more  out  of  sympathy  with  me  than 
any  deep  religious  conviction.  The  following  evening 
there  were  fifty-seven  came  to  the  altar ;  and  this  was  the 
beginning  of  a  glorious  work,  which  never  was  surpassed 
in  all  my  ministry.  There  were  many  remarkable  cases 
of  conversion.  One  man,  who  was  so  degraded  as  to  be 
shunned  by  all  classes,  and  who,  because  he  never  looked 
in  the  Bible,  had  his  week's  wages  hidden  there  by  his 
wife, — this  man  came  to  the  altar,  was  converted,  and 
became  an  honest  and  trustworthy  man.  A  young  hard- 
ware merchant,  named  Frank  Case,  universally  respected 


124  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

for  his  social  qualities,  was  among  the  converts.  He 
startled  an  audience  one  Sunday  afternoon  in  the  hall  by 
declaring,  "If  anybody  says  I  have  n't  got  religion,  I  will 
shoot  him  on  the  spot."  This  was  an  extraordinary  utter- 
ance, but  it  was  simply  his  way  of  expressing  his  idea  that 
he  was  a  changed  man.  His  subsequent  life  proved  it, 
and  he  died  joyfully. 

During  the  progress  of  the  meeting,  the  Rev.  W.  M. 
Punshon,  the  famous  Wesleyan  orator,  dropped  in.  I 
recognized  him ;  so  also  did  one  of  the  members,  and  whis- 
pered to  me  to  invite  him  to  preach.  That  was  precisely 
what  I  would  not  do.  It  was  in  the  afternoon.  There 
were  three  daily  meetings.  I  knew  that  Mr.  Punshon  was 
not,  perhaps,  in  the  revival  mood,  as  he  was  on  a  lecturing 
tour.  I  preached,  and  according  to  custom,  invited 
mourners  forward.  A  number  came  and  professed  con- 
version. I  turned  the  meeting  into  a  general  class,  giving 
all  an  opportunity  to  speak.  Then  I  concluded  it  was  the 
proper  time  to  call  upon  Mr.  Punshon,  which  I  did,  say- 
ing, "I  perceive  the  Rev.  Mr.  Punshon  is  here,  and  the 
Church  would  be  glad  to  hear  from  him."  He  did  not 
know  that  any  one  had  recognized  him ;  but  got  up,  and, 
in  a  stammering  way  at  first,  spoke.  He  gradually 
warmed  up,  and  spoke  gratefully  of  the  delight  and  satis- 
faction he  had  experienced  in  the  services. 

There  were  many  stirring  incidents  connected  with 
that  revival,  and  there  were  many  excellent  people  who 
were  moved  to  a  more  blessed  experience.  I  recall  a  few : 
The  Spaldings,  the  Cronewelts,  Ducks,  Pagues,  Stewarts, 
Carharts,  Camps,  Crims,  Wensells,  Hackedorns,  the  Gills, 
Davises,  Camps,  Hayeses,  Jameses,  Reeces,  Pritchards. 
John  Whitworth  was  the  presiding  elder,  a  worthy  gen- 
tleman, who  was  always  abounding  in  good  work.  Then 


PASTORAL  MEMORIES.  125 

there  were  the  Smiths  and  others,  who  were  always  active 
in  Church  work.  Milford  Lewis,  a  young  steward,  was  a 
stanch  Methodist,  a  splendid  wrorker,  and  always  stood 
by  the  pastor. 

I  had  in  this  Church  an  eccentric  but  benevolent  sort 
of  a  man.  He  was  emphatically  a  peculiar  individual. 
During  the  sermon  he  would  write  his  opinions  of  the 
preacher  in  the  hymn-book,  and  show  his  disapprobation 

in  many  ways.  One  day  I  said  to  him,  "Brother ,  I 

missed  you  from  church  yesterday."  "Well,  I  did  not 
miss  much,"  he  replied,  with  unnecessary  candor.  Being 
an  Irishman  by  birth,  I  naturally  referred  occasionally 
to  Ireland,  whereupon  the  eccentric  brother  confided  with 
his  pencil  to  his  hymn-book,  "The  preacher  believes  that 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  twelve  apostles  were  Irishmen."  In 
my  absence,  once,  the  Episcopal  clergyman  preached. 
The  sermon  annoyed  the  erratic  brother,  and  he  preferred 
charges  against  me  for  introducing  a  strange  form  of  wor- 
ship. In  the  Quarterly  Conference  he  asked,  "By  what 
authority  have  you  introduced  a  foreign  religious  service 
into  our  Church?"  I  replied,  "By  my  own,  the  highest 
Methodist  authority  in  this  city."  He  was,  notwithstand- 
ing his  oddities,  a  good  man,  and  a  most  liberal  one  to  the 
Church.  A.  M.  Stewart  took  an  advanced  position  during 
the  revival,  and  has  ever  since  been  loyal  and  useful.  His 
beautiful  home  is  the  resting-place  of  bishops. 

Hon.  J.  C.  Covert,  of  the  city  of  Cleveland,  and  a  well- 
known  newspaper  man,  was  then  in  charge  of  the  local 
paper  of  the  town.  I  remember  he  was  present  at  my  first 
sermon  there,  and  wrote  a  most  favorable  criticism. 

After  three  years'  service  as  pastor  in  Galion,  my  next 
appointment,  in  1875,  was  Mt.  Vernon,  where  I  had 
preached  my  first  sermons  in  the  United  States.  Mt. 


126  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Vernon  is  a  handsome  old  town,  the  streets  pleasantly 
shaded  with  grand  old  trees;  the  people  are  noted  for 
their  intelligence  and  hospitality. 

In  Mt.  Vernon  I  retain  many  sweet  memories  of  dear 
friends  in  the  Methodist,  as  well  as  in  all  the  Churches. 
The  Delanos  and  Morgans,  of  national  reputation,  were 
frequent  visitors  to  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 
Joseph  C.  Devin,  a  member  of  the  Ohio  Legislature,  an 
upright  citizen,  and  an  honored  member  of  society,  used 
to  drop  in  occasionally.  I  was  present  at  his  wedding, 
which  was  a  brilliant  affair.  Colonel  W.  C.  Cooper,  after- 
wards a  member  of  Congress,  and  one  of  the  first  lawyers 
of  the  State,  came  in  at  times.  The  Curtises,  the  Harpers, 
the  Hamiltons,  the  Sproules,  the  Stauffers,  the  Coles,  the 
Johnstones,  the  Sandersons,  the  Sturgesses,  the  Mitchells, 
lived  here.  Here  lived,  also,  Samuel  Lynch,  a  retired 
preacher,  whose  daughter  married  the  now  famous  Ad- 
miral Miller.  Reverend  Thompson  was  the  Episcopal 
rector,  a  pure  and  lofty-minded  man.  Reverend  Newton 
preached  in  one  of  the  Presbyterian  Churches.  His  face 
was  a  benediction.  Rev.  Mr.  Thrapp  was  the  Protestant 
Methodist  pastor,  every  inch  a  gentleman,  and  as  a 
preacher  he  ranked  high ;  a  patriot  who  loved  his  country, 
served  her  faithfully  in  the  war,  loved  all  mankind.  To  do 
good  is  the  business  of  his  life ;  it  is  also  the  first  and  last 
joy  of  his  heart,  ever  ready  with  his  voice  and  pen  to 
vindicate  the  innocent.  He  has  filled  the  leading  pulpits 
in  his  denomination.  All  efforts,  when  a  young  man,  to 
keep  him  in  the  rear  were  failures,  and,  like  the  sun,  which 
may  be  clouded  for  a  time,  but  ultimately  shines  out  in 
glory,  he  could  not  be  extinguished. 

The  last  session  of  the  North  Ohio  Conference  I  at- 
tended was  in  Mount  Vernon,  one  of  my  old  charges,  and 


PASTORAL   MEMORIES.  127 

my  reception,  after  several  years  absence,  was  cordial  in 
the  extreme.  Bishop  Hurst  presided  with  dignity  and 
grace  over  the  sittings.  The  name  of  Bishop  Hurst  is 
identified  with  the  most  complete  exposition  of  theology 
since  the  days  of  Richard  Watson.  In  his  earliest  youth 
he  was  a  close  student  of  the  German  School;  accurate 
scholar;  and,  to  crown  all,  he  had  a  cultivated  eloquence, 
which  frequently  outshone  the  brilliancy  of  the  masters  of 
speech.  In  all  his  published  and  spoken  discourses  there 
is  not  a  slovenly  sentence,  nor  a  broken  metaphor.  Whilst 
the  tutored  ear  listens  to  him  with  admiration,  the  ignobile 
vulgus  still  find  a  something  in  his  words,  which  showed 
he  is  a  man  of  the  people. 

I  lectured  before  the  Conference  upon  Sherman's 
March  to  the  Sea.  The  Rev.  W.  C.  Endly,  a  clear, 
nervous,  and  able  preacher,  was  pastor.  His  atmosphere 
is  revivals  and  church-building.  I  met  many  old  com- 
panions: Kellam,  Ball,  Kneale,  Badgely,  Barnes,  Close, 
Farrah,  Card,  Graham,  Hagerman,  Hanawalt,  Disney, 
Dunbar,  Barren,  Barker,  Baker,  Edwards,  Gallinmore, 
Jewett,  Keyes,  Roberts,  McCaskey,  Jones,  Martindale, 
Van  Camp,  J.  P.  Mills  and  B.  J.  Mills,  Painter,  Palmer, 
Mather,  Ruff,  Struggles,  Thompson,  Torbett,  Upp,  Wag- 
goner, Kelser,  Clark,  Richards,  Lawrence,  Reece,  Booth, 
Smith,  Pollock,  Castle,  McCullough,  Russell,  Long, 
Chase,  Patterson,  Bush,  Place,  Wolfe,  Knapp,  Hastings, 
Dawson,  Wilson,  Gay,  Winter,  Mead,  Grosse. 

My  last  charge  in  Cleveland  was  at  Woodland  Hills 
Avenue.  The  congregation  had  been  scattered  by  fac- 
tions. There  was  nothing  left  but  the  church  without  a 
door,  and  a  few  determined  spirits,  who  had  not  joined 
in  chanting  the  requiescat  in  pace.  I  record  their  names  as 
among  the  most  godly  and  enthusiastic  Methodists  I 


128  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

eyer  met.  They  were  all  English  and  Gladstonian  Lib- 
erals, who  hailed  John  Bright  as  their  chief.  They  were 
Wimper,  Price,  the  venerable  Mr.  James  and  his  devoted 
wife,  Orgell,  Richards,  Henderson,  Horton;  the  Thomas 
family,  a  host  in  themselves;  Griffiths,  Gage.  I  gave  a 
lecture  to  put  the  church  in  order.  A  revival  followed, 
and  over  seventy  new  members  were  added.  I  have  a 
warm  place  in  my  heart  for  these  whole-souled  Wesleyans. 
Their  class-meetings  were  like  a  prairie  on  fire.  One  of 
the  highest  compliments  I  ever  received  was  from  one  of 
them.  "Brother  Pepper,"  at  the  close  of  my  term  said  he, 
"you  do  not  put  out  all  your  sails — sails  at  once,"  refer- 
ring to  the  common  practice  of  preachers  giving  their 
best  sermons  at  first.  I  shall  ever  remember  with  feelings 
of  deepest  pleasure  my  connection  with  this  Church.  It 
is  now  pacified,  harmonious,  and  flourishing.  It  seems 
that  I  was  ordained  to  be  a  settler  of  Church  difficulties. 
Scovill  Avenue  was  split  almost  in  two.  Many  of  the 
best  paying  members  thought  there  was  no  necessity  for 
the  Church.  Those  who  remained  worked  strenuously 
with  honor  and  fidelity.  Instead  of  affairs  being  compli- 
cated and  unsatisfactory,  the  Church  is  prosperous.  The 
Brecksville  Charge  had  only  forty  members;  but  every 
one  counted.  They  paid  the  largest  salary,  and,  in  pro- 
portion to  membership,  paid  the  largest  subscriptions  to 
the  benevolent  institutions  of  any  Church  in  the  Confer- 
ence. They  were  all  Yankees;  intelligent  and  enterpris- 
ing, a  lecture-patronizing  community.  The  place  is  so 
healthy,  it  is  said  that  nobody  ever  dies  there  except  of 
great  old  age.  I  used  to  visit  Mrs.  Boyd,  almost  a  hun- 
dred years  old.  She  kissed  the  hand  of  Lafayette,  and 
was  very  proud  of  it.  She  told  me  that  the  great  French- 
man took  back  with  him  to  France  a  barrel  of  American 


PASTORAL  MEMORIES.  129 

earth  to  be  buried  in.  Rev.  George  Greene  resided  here. 
So  did  Rev.  Brush,  both  valuable  helpers.  There  were 
also  Fathers  Newland,  Reinhardt,  Garietty,  Foster. 
Brother  Kuss  and  his  amiable  wife  were  always  to  the 
front  in  every  good  work;  but  the  chief  financial  worker 
was  a  gifted  woman,  Mrs.  Dillow ;  and  Mrs.  Butler,  presi- 
dent of  the  Ladies'  Society,  was  a  valuable  helper. 

9 


Chapter   VII. 
VOYAGE  ABROAD— IRELAND  AND  ITALY  VISITED. 

FROM  Mount  Vernon  I  was  sent,  in  1878,  to  Bellevue, 
a  pleasant  town,  partly  situated  in  two  counties — 
Huron  and  Sandusky — and  one  of  the  prettiest  places  in 
Northern  Ohio.  The  Church  and  community  possessed 
many  men  whose  names  were  known  all  over  the  coun- 
try— the  Higbees,  the  Boyers,  the  Harknesses,  the 
Bradys,  the  Woods,  the  Woodwards,  the  Places,  the 
Bakers,  the  Millers.  Two  of  the  official  members  of  my 
Church  had  been  members  of  the  Legislature. 

Towards  the  close  of  my  third  year  here,  with  my 
wife,  I  revisited  Ireland,  neither  of  us  having  seen  the  dear 
old  land  for  over  twenty-five  years.  We  sailed  from  New 
York  on  the  3Oth  of  May,  1881,  and  after  a  pleasant  voy- 
age of  ten  days  arrived  in  Liverpool.  Thence  we  immedi- 
ately departed  for  Ireland.  As  we  approached  the  scenes 
of  our  youth  and  childhood,  and  recognized  the  spots 
remembered  so  well,  the  quarter  of  a  century  of  change 
seemed  blotted  out,  and  we  were  once  more  care-free, 
laughing  children.  We  agreed  that  I  should  call  first 
upon  my  wife's  mother,  while  she  remained  outside  in  the 
jaunting-car.  "Can  you  give  me  a  glass  of  water?"  I 
asked,  as  the  old  lady  appeared  at  the  door  in  answer  to 
my  knock.  "O  yes,"  she  replied,  "would  you  not  rather 
have  a  glass  of  milk?"  I  did  not  make  myself  known,  but 
asked  her  a  number  of  questions.  "Have  you  any  rela- 
tions in  America?"  "Yes,  indeed,  sir;  I  have  a  daughter 
there."  "What  is  her  name?  Perhaps  I  may  have  met 

130 


VOYAGE  ABROAD.  131 

her."  "Pepper  is  her  name,  and  her  husband  is  a  Meth- 
odist preacher."  "I  heard  him  preach  two  weeks  ago,  and 
saw  his  wife,  a  beautiful  fair-haired  woman.  They  have 
six  children."  "It  is  the  very  same,  sir;  and  here  are  their 
pictures."  The  conversation  now  became  very  exciting, 
as  she  begged  me  for  news  of  her  daughter,  whom  I  had 
seen  so  recently.  My  wife  could  wait  outside  no  longer, 
and  rushing  in,  embraced  her  mother,  exclaiming, 
"Mother,  it  is  I,  your  daughter  Christine!"  After  some 
minutes  of  intense  feeling,  my  aged  mother-in-law  turned 
toward  me,  and  said,  "It  is  George ;  I  recognize  him  now." 

I  remained  here  for  a  week,  and  then,  leaving  Mrs. 
Pepper  with  her  mother,  proceeded  to  the  Continent,  vis- 
iting London,  Paris,  Milan,  Rome,  Florence,  and  Venice. 
This  was  my  first  visit  to  Southern  Europe. 

In  London  I  stopped  long  enough  to  hear  Bright, 
Gladstone,  the  Irish  orators  in  Parliament,  and  some  of 
the  great  preachers.  I  was  impressed  with  Spurgeon. 

My  first  sight  of  the  Alps  is  a  memory  that  never  can 
be  forgotten.  I  recalled  the  saying  of  Portia,  in  the  play, 
when  Bassanio  had  chosen  the  right  casket,  and  also  the 
fair  maiden,  "How  all  the  other  passions  fleet  to  air." 
There  was  no  room  for  any  other  emotion  but  that  of 
wonder  and  awe.  Never  have  I  seen  mountains  so  grand, 
meadows  so  green,  lakes  so  clear  and  beautiful,  air  so 
genial  and  so  soft !  And  never  did  I  hear  music  to  equal 
that  which  I  heard  in  the  silence  and  solitude — music  call- 
ing us  back,  with  tears  in  our  clouded  eyes,  to  flowers 
that  had  faded,  and  the  haunts  of  summer  birds  whose 
songs  are  hushed  forever !  Crossing  the  Alps  is  the  event 
of  a  lifetime ;  it  is  a  memory  for  all  time ! 

At  last  I  was  in  Italy,  and  the  apostrophe  of  Robert 
Browning  came  to  me,  "O  woman  country!"  I  was  in 


132  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Italy;  the  ambition  of  a  lifetime  was  realized, — Italy, 
where  minds  of  the  loftiest  nature  have  derived  stimulants 
to  brave  great  enterprises,  victorious  actions,  and  from  the 
grandest  heights  have  received  inspiration  that  has  car- 
ried them  over  fields  of  flame!  Italy,  whose  statesmen 
have  decided  the  fate  of  armies,  scepters,  and  empires! 
Italy,  whose  renowned  martyrs,  especially  Savonarola, 
rose  in  a  dark  and  troubled  night  as  the  day-stars  of  Ital- 
ian regeneration!  Italy,  whose  patient  industry  clothes 
the  land  with  richness,  fertility,  and  beauty ! 

The  scenery  of  Italy  is  unsurpassed.  Her  matchless 
lakes,  Como  and  Maggiore,  which  for  a  thousand  years 
have  been  celebrated  in  song  and  oratory,  are  probably 
the  most  charming  sheets  of  water  ever  seen  by  mortal 
eye. 

Pen  can  not  paint  nor  heart  conceive  the  splendor  of 
a  summer  in  this  favored  land.  Upon  one  side,  masses  of 
rich  crimson  clouds  recline  upon  beds  of  brilliant  purple; 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  sky,  a  proscenium  of  colors, 
gold  and  crimson,  are  moving  to  and  fro,  while  splendid 
arches,  like  heaven's  own  rainbow,  seem  to  encircle  earth 
and  sky.  It  is  nature  singing  its  hymn  of  praise  to  the 
Creator. 

There  is  not  a  spot  in  Italy  that  is  not  vital  with  pa- 
triotic memories  and  desperate  gallantry.  It  was  said  of 
a  patriot  soldier  of  Greece  that,  after  the  battle  of  Mara- 
thon, a  fevered  uneasiness  appeared  in  his  countenance. 
He  seldom  slept  and  rarely  spoke,  and  when  asked  why, 
after  such  a  glorious  victory,  he  was  not  contented,  he 
replied,  "The  trophies  of  Miltiades  will  not  let  me  sleep/' 
And  surely  the  trophies  of  Italy,  which  flash  on  us  from 
her  thousand  fields  and  encircle  travelers  with  the  light 
of  liberty — trophies  reared  on  the  Alps,  trophies  reared 


SAVONAROLA. 


VOYAGE  ABROAD.  133 

at  Rome,  trophies  reared  on  the  banks  of  the  Po,  trophies 
reared  on  the  classic  soil  of  Sicily — surely  these  splendid 
trophies  will  rise  up  from  the  depths  of  memory.  Italy  is 
composed  of  a  family  of  beautiful  sister  cities.  Milan,  the 
city  of  industry,  commerce,  and  music,  crowns  her  head 
with  the  wreath  of  victory  of  her  "cinque  giornati" — her 
five  days'  glorious  war  for  liberty.  Venice,  fair  and  beauti- 
ful as  a  dream  in  a  maiden's  breast,  is  called  the  ideal. 
Genoa  is  the  superb  city  of  palaces.  Florence  is  the  city  of 
the  beautiful,  city  of  flowers,  and  the  flower  of  cities,  and 
the  city  that  contains  the  treasures  of  Italian  art.  Rome 
is  holy  ground  to  two-thirds  of  the  Christian  world.  Rome, 
impressive,  immortal  Rome!  What  a  tide  of  memories 
rush  upon  the  brain  and  heart  as  the  traveler  beholds 
Rome  for  the  first  time!  There  is  not  only  grandeur  in 
the  sight,  but  in  the  thought  of  the  great  sight !  He  feels 
as  if  ennobled  by  the  destiny  which  has  brought  him 
hither  to  meditate  amidst  scenes  so  renowned  and  holy. 
Rome,  seated  upon  her  seven  hills  as  of  yore,  stretches 
away  before  me!  The  city  whose  history  involves  the 
annals  of  our  race !  The  great  mother  of  heroes — exalted 
by  the  loftiest  achievements  of  valor  and  piety !  No  other 
city  has  ever  been  the  theater  of  such  events.  Who  can 
behold  it  for  the  first  time  without  emotion?  The  states- 
man, the  philosopher,  the  Protestant,  the  Catholic,  the 
Jew,  and  the  Gentile, — all  alike  regard  it  with  the  deepest 
interest.  It  is  the  devout  Christian  who  says,  with  Byron, 
"Rome,  my  country,  city  of  the  soul." 

The  eye  is  bewildered  with  the  vast  variety  of  objects 
to  be  seen  in  Rome.  The  Coliseum  is  an  enormous  build- 
ing, erected  by  Vespasian  to  commemorate  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem,  and  to  gratify  the  pride  and  cruelty 
of  the  people.  What  vastness !  what  strength !  what  walls, 


134  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

that  have  resisted  the  fury  of  the  elements  and  of  time  for 
eighteen  hundred  years!  The  Triumphal  Arch  of  Titus 
has  one  long  arch  which  is  very  beautiful.  Two  only  of 
its  eight  marble  columns  are  perfect.  On  one  side,  Titus 
is  seated  on  his  car  of  triumph;  on  the  other  are  the 
spoils  of  the  Temple,  copied  from  the  originals,  the  seven- 
branched  candlestick,  the  table  of  the  shewbread,  which 
were  all  transported  to  Rome. 

To  return  to  the  Coliseum,  the  grandest  of  all  ruins. 
It  is  the  glory  of  Rome.  Great  and  beautiful  even  in  de- 
cay, it  stands  in  lonely  grandeur,  speaking  to  the  heart 
in  a  voice  so  touching,  awakening  feelings  so  powerful, 
so  unutterable,  so  melancholy!  In  one  small  portion 
the  extensive  elevation  is  preserved  entire.  It  rises  in 
lofty  grandeur,  arch  over  arch,  simple,  noble,  harmo- 
nious! Within,  the  hand  of  violence  and  time  is  more 
apparent  and  impressive;  the  marble  seats  are  broken, 
the  sloping  walls  and  arches  that  supported  them  are 
shattered.  The  mind  loses  itself  in  contemplating  the 
great  arena.  The  very  galleries  were  so  numbered  that 
every  Roman  citizen  knew  his  seat.  There  were  fre- 
quently eighty-seven  thousand  persons  present.  The 
maids  and  matrons  came  twice  a  day  to  see  the  gladiato- 
rial games.  So  terrible  was  the  butchery  that  an  aqueduct 
was  built  to  supply  the  water  necessary  to  cleanse  the 
arena  after  these  bloody  exhibitions.  It  is  long  before  we 
awaken  from  the  solemn  majesty,  the  painful  associa- 
tions arising,  when  we  remember  that  here  thousands 
of  Christians  met  a  fearful  death,  and  that  thousands 
looked  on  with  admiration.  Blessed  forever  be  the  pure 
spirits  of  these  martyrs,  whose  blood  sanctifies  this  monu- 
ment of  imperial  greatness,  and  invests  it  with  a  holier 
grandeur  than  its  other  loftier  pretensions!  The  victor 


VOYAGE  ABROAD.  135 

and  the  vanquished,  the  master  and  the  slave,  the  tyrant 
and  his  victim,  are  all  forgotten !  But  above  shines  the 
same  unclouded  sky,  the  same  gentle  breezes  whisper 
through  the  great  ruins,  the  same  glamour  lights  up  all 
objects  with  its  radiance ! 

Then  there  is  St.  Peter's.  How  magnificent  is  the  ap- 
proach to  it!  That  grandest  of  colonnades,  the  noble 
piazza,  the  ancient  obelisk,  brought  from  Egypt  two 
thousand  years  ago,  the  sparkling  fountains !  The  fagade 
of  St.  Peter's  has  been  criticised,  but  I  was  disarmed.  I 
felt  like  approaching  it  upon  my  bended  knees.  The  co- 
lossal genius  of  Michael  Angelo  towers  exultingly  to  the 
skies  in  that  majestic  dome,  which  seems  built  for  eter- 
nity. There  the  spectator,  whose  mind  has  become  ex- 
panded while  pacing  those  glorious  aisles,  has  no  diffi- 
culty in  comprehending  that  in  St.  Peter's  the  founders 
designed  the  temple  of  the  Christian  world.  This  was 
the  ambition  which  laid  its  foundation-stone,  and  which 
has  actuated  every  succeeding  pontiff  in  adorning  it. 

When  returning  from  this  first  visit  to  Europe — it  was 
during  the  time  when  President  Garfield  was  nearing 
death — I  was  called  upon  to  perform  a  funeral  ceremony 
at  sea.  A  passenger  died,  and  the  captain  called  upon 
me  to  take  charge  of  the  melancholy  ceremony.  He  was 
a  very  kind-hearted  captain.  The  passenger  had  left  a 
large  family  in  Ireland.  The  captain  suggested  that  I 
give  a  lecture  for  the  benefit  of  the  widow  and  children; 
and  he  also  suggested  the  subject  of  the  lecture,  "Amer- 
ica," as  so  many  were  going  there.  I  agreed,  upon  con- 
dition that  the  English  flag  should  be  taken  down  and 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  be  placed  at  the  masthead.  He 
was  very  willing,  and  the  arrangements  were  made.  Pa- 
triotic songs  were  sung,  and  I  began  my  lecture.  When 


136  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

I  was  about  half-way  through,  the  pilot  came  on  board, 
announcing  that  "Garfield  was  still  living."  The  lecture 
was  speedily  brought  to  a  close,  and  the  audience  cheered 
and  shouted.  An  incident  occurred  at  the  commence- 
ment. Some  British  officers  started  "God  save  the 
Queen."  It  was  too  much  for  a  full-blooded  Yankee 
from  Hartford,  who  went  off,  indignantly  exclaiming, 
"God  d-mn  the  Queen!  I  have  been  in  England  for  six 
months,  and  I  have  heard  nothing  but  'God  save  the 
Queen/  " 


Chapter  VIII. 

PASTORAL  RELATIONS   RESUMED— APPOINT- 
MENT AS  CONSUL  TO  MILAN. 

UPON  my  return  to  the  United  States  in  the  fall  of 
1 88 1,  I  was  appointed  to  Sandusky,  a  pleasant  and 
attractive  city  upon  the  historic  shore  of  Lake  Erie.  The 
Church  here  for  years  had  worshiped  in  the  basement; 
but  before  the  year  was  up,  the  large  room  was  finished. 
The  first  sermon  I  preached  was  upon  the  evening  be- 
fore the  funeral  of  President  Garfield.  The  hearts  of  the 
people  were  with  the  dead  man,  and  some  of  that  com- 
munity could  not  understand  his  death  in  such  a  cowardly 
and  cruel  manner,  and  were  disposed  to  question  strongly 
a  belief  in  a  wise  Providence. 

From  Sandusky  I  was  returned  to  Wooster  in  1882, 
and  became  pastor  of  Trinity  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  a  very  gem  in  architecture.  This  church  was 
largely  built  by  Mr.  D.  Q.  Liggett,  of  whom  I  have  al- 
ready spoken — a  generous  merchant,  whose  heart  was 
ever  touched  by  any  worthy  person's  tale  of  woe.  The 
reception  tendered  me  was  enthusiastic  and  hearty.  The 
famous  lawyer,  Mr.  John  McSweeney,  recited  there,  in 
his  own  inimitable  style,  the  "Burial  of  Moses."  I  spent 
three  years  at  this  charge.  It  was  here,  from  the  Wooster 
University,  that  three  of  my  children  graduated.  •  The 
youngest,  Carrie,  now  with  the  angels,  received  one  of  the 
honors,  that  of  belles-lettres,  and  was,  I  believe,  the  first 
girl  student  to  be  thus  distinguished  since  the  establish- 
ment of  the  institution.  She  delivered  her  address  in 

137 


138  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

German,  which  was  highly  praised  by  many  of  the  emi- 
nent educators  present.  The  day  of  her  graduation  was 
a  lovely  one,  and  I  can  see  her  now,  as  she  came  bound- 
ing over  the  campus,  and,  as  she  overtook  me,  asking: 
"How  did  I  do?  Could  you  hear  me?  Did  I  speak  loud 
enough?"  Ah  yes!  loud  enough,  clear  enough  to  be  for- 
ever impressed  upon  my  memory ! 

While  attending  the  university  here  my  children 
formed  many  warm  attachments  among  the  students. 
Among  others  whose  friendship  they  valued  highly  were 
Mr.  Alvin  Findlay,  now  editor  of  the  Iron  Trade  Review 
in  Cleveland,  and  the  Messrs.  Fred  and  Walter  Mullins, 
the  one  now  a  prominent  attorney,  and  the  other  a  suc- 
cessful business  man. 

The  Conference  which  met  in  Galion,  after  three  years 
in  Wrooster,  transferred  me,  in  1885,  to  Ashland.  This 
Church  had  a  membership  of  three  hundred,  and  in  for- 
mer years  was  among  the  strongest  Churches  in  the  Con- 
ference. My  family  had  decided  to  move  to  Cleveland, 
my  wife  having  become  weary  of  the  constant  moving 
which  a  ministry  in  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  ne- 
cessitates, and  was  desirous  of  settling  down  in  a  perma- 
nent home.  I  told  this  to  the  elder,  that  I  could  not 
have  my  family  with  me;  but  nevertheless  it  was  decided 
that  I  should  go  to  Ashland.  The  result  proved  the  wis- 
dom of  the  appointment.  The  first  year  a  revival  of  great 
magnitude  was  started,  and  hundreds  .were  induced  to 
begin  a  new  life.  After  the  revival,  steps  were  taken  to 
erect  a  new  church,  and  one  was  built  that  is  probably 
not  excelled  by  any  in  the  Conference.  The  official  mem- 
bers, out  of  respect  for  my  services  in  the  revival  and  for 
building  the  edifice,  presented  me  with  a  beautiful  stained- 
glass  window,  which  bears  this  inscription :  "This  window 


PASTORAL  RELATIONS  RESUMED.  139 

is  dedicated  by  the  pastor,  Rev.  G.  W.  Pepper,  to  Ire- 
land's benefactors  and  martyrs — Parnell,  Emmet,  Glad- 
stone." 

The  reason  I  placed  those  distinguished  names  upon 
that  window  were,  first,  I  admired  the  men  and  I  loved 
their  principles;  then  I  knew  it  would  be  noticed  in  the 
Wesleyan  papers  in  England,  which  at  that  time  were 
very  hostile  to  anything  like  justice  to  Ireland.  Now 
these  same  journals  are  its  most  ardent  supporters,  and 
this  inscription  would  show-them  that  in  the  United  States 
there  were  no  such  prejudices  as  existed  in  the  old  land. 
I  recall  the  names  of  Judge  Jones,  the  Goods,  the  Stubbs, 
the  Jamesons,  the  Hoyts,  the  Blacks,  the  Krebs,  Ames, 
Kunkles,  McNeeles,  the  Waggoners,  Sprengles,  the  Cow- 
ans, the  Shinns,  Deshongs,  Browns,  the  Moores,  the  Fritz- 
ingers,  Whitings,  Cralls,  the  Grosscups,  the  Fords,  and 
Christofels,  the  Brubakers  and  Shearers. 

Among  the  good  and  patriotic  women  of  Ash- 
land stands  the  name  of  Mrs.  Mary  Freer.  She  has 
always  been  a  liberal  and  generous  benefactor  to  all  the 
Churches  and  charities  of  the  city.  The  beautiful  sol- 
dier's monument  which  adorns  the  town  is  her  gift.  Her 
husband,  Jonas  Freer,  a  very  industrious  man,  amassed 
a  large  fortune.  He  was  a  devoted  Union  man  during 
the  war,  and  his  widow  shared  in  his  patriotic  sentiments. 
When  President  Hayes  dedicated  the  monument,  he  was 
her  guest.  When  the  new  Methodist  Episcopal  church 
was  built,  under  my  auspices,  she  gave  largely.  Mrs.  Freer 
is  a  Methodist,  and  very  liberal.  Her  able  lawyer,  R.  M. 
Campbell,  tells  many  good  things  of  her — her  benevo- 
lences to  the  poor  and  the  orphan.  The  editors  of  the 
Ashland  papers,  especially  the  Hon.  George  Hildebrand, 
a  member  of  the  Church,  rendered  valuable  help  in  the 


140  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

building  of  the  magnificent  new  church.     Mr.  Ilger,  as 
president  of  the  Social,  rendered  good  service. 

I  remained  in  Ashland  for  four  years — years  as  pleas- 
ant and  delightful  as  I  ever  passed.  Then,  preferring  to 
live  in  Cleveland,  I  was  favored  by  the  Conference  with 
an  appointment  at  Doylestown.  Here,  as  in  many  other 
charges,  I  found  an  old  debt  hanging  over  the  church. 
In  company  with  Mr.  Hoffman,  I  proceeded  to  raise  this 
amount,  and  the  debt  was  soon  liquidated.  It  was  while 
I  was  stationed  at  Doylestown,  in  the  winter  of  1889-90, 
that  I  made  a  visit  to  Washington,  to  see  a  son  and  daugh- 
ter— Charles  M.,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  Chicago 
Tribune  Bureau — and  Carrie,  who  was  the  correspondent 
for  a  syndicate  of  papers,  a  very  responsible  position  for 
one  so  young  and  inexperienced.  She  said  to  me  one 
morning,  "Father,  let  us  go  and  see  Mr.  Elaine."  I  de- 
clined, upon  the  ground  that  I  did  not  want  any  office, 
and  a  call  upon  him  would  naturally  give  a  wrong  im- 
pression. But  she  insisted,  saying  that  Mr.  Blaine  had 
frequently  asked  why  I  did  not  come  to  see  him,  and,  to 
gratify  her,  I  accompanied  her.  The  room  was  full  of 
office-seekers,  and  I  was  ashamed  to  find  myself  there; 
so  I  quickly  retreated.  The  next  morning  my  daughter 
made  another  appeal  to  me,  and  I  mustered  up  courage 
enough  to  visit  the  State  Department  again.  I  knocked, 
and  the  door  was  opened  by  a  messenger,  who  inquired 
if  I  was  a  diplomat,  and  what  I  wanted.  I  replied  that 
I  was  not  a  diplomat,  and  my  object  was  merely  to  call 
upon  Mr.  Blaine.  He  refused  to  permit  me  to  enter, 
saying  that  none  but  diplomats  were  received  that  day. 
But  Mr.  Blaine  had  heard  me  give  my  name,  and  called 
out  to  know  if  it  was  Dr.  Pepper,  of  Ohio,  and  on  re- 
ceiving an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  instantly  begged 


APPOINTMENT  AS  CONSUL    TO  MILAN.  141 

me  to  come  right  in.  Then  followed  a  deluge  of  ques- 
tions :  "Why  have  you  not  been  to  see  me  before?  Where 
do  you  want  to  go?"  etc.  I  replied  that  I  wanted  nothing, 
that  I  had  simply  called  for  the  sake  of  past  friendship, 
and  to  gratify  my  daughter,  who  had  told  me  that  Mr. 
Elaine  had  inquired  kindly  about  me,  saying  that  he  was 
under  obligations  to  me.  "That  is  true,"  he  replied. 
"Where  do  you  want  to  go?"  I  told  him  that  I  did  not 
come  as  an  office-seeker,  and  if  I  had,  courtesy  demanded 
that  I  should  first  see  Senator  Sherman.  "No!  no!"  he 
said ;  "I  know  you,  the  President  knows  you ;  so  to  which 
country  do  you  prefer  to  go?"  I  was  taken  completely 
by  surprise;  but  having  always  had  a  longing  for  Italy, 
I  replied  that  I  would  like  to  go  there.  "Well,"  he  re- 
plied, "there  are  two  or  three  fine  appointments  open 
there  yet.  When  are  you  going  to  leave  the  city?"  "To- 
morrow," I  answered.  "Wait  until  next  Tuesday.  I 
am  going  to  New  York  to-morrow  to  attend  the  Pan- 
American  banquet.  Come  back  next  Tuesday,  and  I  will 
have  your  appointment  ready." 

I  was  astonished;  for  I  knew  there  had  been  a  regi- 
ment of  ex-governors  and  ex-representatives,  wearing 
their  sleeves  off,  and  they  could  not  even  get  a  hearing 
from  the  Secretary.  I  returned  on  the  day  specified,  and 
Mr.  Elaine  showed  me  the  appointment  list,  indicating 
with  red  ink,  Milan,  Florence,  Naples — any  one  of  which 
I  could  have.  Mr.  Elaine  suggested  Milan  as  being  the 
best,  being  the  commercial  and  musical  center  of  Italy; 
that  the  district  contained  the  beautiful  lakes  of  Como 
and  Maggiore,  where  I  could  spend  the  summers,  going 
back  and  forth  every  morning  and  evening. 

I  accepted  the  offer  of  Milan,  thanking  the  Secretary 
most  cordially.  Soon  afterwards  the  President  confirmed 


142  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

the  nomination.  It  was  announced  in  all  the  papers  the 
next  day,  and  the  old  politicians  were  startled,  not  ex- 
pecting it,  and  not  knowing  I  was  a  candidate,  any  more 
than  I  did  myself  when  I  went  to  Washington.  My 
daughter  was  overjoyed,  as  she  was  anxious  to  spend  a 
year  or  two  in  the  poet's  land,  perfecting  herself  in  Italian 
literature.  But  alas!  in  three  short  months  before  any 
definite  arrangements  had  been  completed  for  her  jour- 
ney, she  had  finished  her  studies  on  earth  forever. 

I  left  for  my  post  of  duty  early  in  the  spring  of 
1890,  and  never  regretted,  during  my  four  years  stay 
there,  that  I  had  chosen  this  advanced,  intellectual, 
and  progressive  city  for  my  residence  abroad.  Milan 
is  a  large  and  ancient  city.  It  has  been  twice  de- 
stroyed, once  by  Attila  and  once  by  Frederick  Barba- 
rossa.  It  was  here  that,  in  the  fifth  century,  Constantine 
issued  the  decree  making  Christianity  the  religion  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  As  early  as  the  twelfth  century  it  pos- 
sessed a  population  of  three  hundred  thousand,  which 
'has  now  become  nearly  half  a  million.  It  has  always  been 
distinguished  for  its  manufactures  in  silk  and  jewelry. 
There  is  there  at  present  a  firm  for  the  making  of  watches 
that  has  been  in  existence  for  five  hundred  years.  The 
famous  Bishop  Ambrose  had  his  seat  in  this  city  in  the 
fourth  century.  There  is  an  ecclesiastical  incident  told 
of  him  that  shows  his  kindness  of  heart.  It  was  said  that 
Monica,  the  mother  of  Augustine,  came  to  him  in  tears, 
weeping  for  her  wayward  son.  The  good  Ambrose  en- 
couraged her,  saying,  "The  child  of  so  many  tears  can 
never  perish,"  and  Augustine  became  one  of  the  bright- 
est saints  in  the  Church. 

Milan  possesses  many  grand  palaces  and  the,  second 
cathedral  in  the  world.  The  Duomo,  as  it  is  called,  in 


CONSUL  AT  MILAN.  143 

its  gorgeous  exterior,  is  unsurpassed;  in  the  richness  of 
its  materials,  in  the  profusion  and  beauty  of  its  decora- 
tions, it  is  superior  to  St  Peter's.  It  is  Gothic  in  archi- 
tecture, built  of  white  marble,  which  looks,  from  a  dis- 
tance, like  a  mountain  of  snow.  Its  nave  and  double 
aisles  are  supported  by  fifty-two  clustered  columns 
and  fifty  half-columns;  and  on  the  exterior,  its  roof 
is  encircled  by  a  triple  row  of  pinnacles  or  spires, 
each  about  sixty  feet  in  height,  and  crowned  by 
statues  as  large  as  life. .  Its  walls  and  buttresses 
are  crusted  with  a  profusion  of  tracery.  Upon 
the  outside  there  are  three  thousand  four  hundred  statues, 
which  give  the  sacred  edifice  a  most  graceful  and  beauti- 
ful appearance.  The  pinnacles  are  one  hundred  and 
twenty  in  number.  The  interior  contains  four  thousand 
statues,  representing  prophets,  angels,  martyrs,  and 
saints.  The  cathedral  is  the  wonder  of  wonders  to  tour- 
ists from  all  parts  of  the  world.  The  German  Emperor, 
when  he  first  beheld  it,  exclaimed,  "A  mountain  of  gold 
converted  into  a  mountain  of  marble."  An  Italian  peasant 
being  once  asked  his  opinion  of  it,  his  quick  reply  was, 
"It  is  worth  a  whole  day  in  July,"  referring  to  good  - 
weather  in  the  growth  of  his  crops.  It  is  very  ancient, 
having  been  begun  in  1389  by  Visconti,  one  of  the  old 
nobles  of  Italy,  who  made  his  vast  wealth  by  piracy.  He 
built  it  as  an  atonement  for  his  sins.  He  had,  in  addition 
to  his  crimes  upon  the  seas,  poisoned  a  host  of  his  rela- 
tives, and  he  supposed  that  by  devoting  his  wealth  to 
religious  purposes  he  might  cancel  his  crimes. 

A  hundred  years  is  a  long  time,  but  here  is  a  church 
six  hundred  years  old.  The  inside  is  vast  and  rich,  and 
is  mixed  with  a  variety  of  styles,  the  Greek  and  the  Gothic 
predominating.  This  is  very  common  among  the  cathe- 


144  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

drals  in  Italy,  arising,  doubtless,  from  the  tastes  of  the 
various  architects  who  have  been  employed. 

Milan  possesses,  like  the  other  cities  of  Italy,  many 
schools  of  science  and  of  painting,  and  galleries  of  art, 
where  collections  of  paintings  by  the  great  masters  are 
kept,  and  where  an  annual  exhibition  of  paintings  takes 
place.  In  this  city  is  perhaps  the  most  famous  picture 
in  the  world,  the  celebrated  fresco  painting  of  Leonardo 
da  Vinci.  He  was  a  native  of  Milan,  and  the  Milanese  are 
justly  proud  of  him.  The  fresco  of  the  Last  Supper 
is  much  damaged  by  time  and  the  brutal  treat- 
ment it  received  from  Napoleon's  soldiers,  who  camped 
in  the  refectory.  The  greater  and  more  expressive  part 
of  the  faces  may  be  well  discerned;  that  of  the  Divine 
Savior  is  such  a  personification  of  his  magnetic  charac- 
ter that  it  is  impossible  to  look  at  it  without  the  most 
profound  reverence  and  emotion.  Judas  is  easily  recog- 
nizable, but  the  most  expressive  face  among  all  the  apos- 
tles is  Thomas,  as  he  lifts  up  his  finger  and  asks,  "Lord, 
is  it  I?" 

Milan  has  always  been  celebrated  for  its  patriotism. 
There  is  a  fine  monument  recently  dedicated  to  the  mem- 
ories of  the  dead  heroes  who,  a  few  years  ago,  drove  out 
the  Austrians — when  six  hundred  men  and  women  drove 
out  of  the  city  sixteen  thousand  Austrians.  The  gallant 
and  patriotic  people  realized  that  liberty  was  more  to 
them  than  the  golden  vision  of  the  poet,  more  than  the 
dream  of  the  visionary,  more  than  the  schemes  of  the 
politician  or  the  statesman.  The  very  women  fought  like 
heroines,  and  many  of  their  names  are  inscribed  upon  this 
monument.  The  love  of  liberty  burns  brightly  in  the 
hearts  of  these  people.  It  needs  but  the  breath  of  inde- 
pendence to  shine  forth  in  all  its  ancient  luster. 


HEAD  OF  CHRIST,  BY  LEONARDO  DA  VINCI. 


CONSUL   AT  MILAN.  145 

The  stately  theater,  La  Scala,  is  one  of  the  attractions 
of  the  city.  It  was  here  that  Patti,  Albani,  Emma  Abbott, 
received  their  musical  training. 

The  Lombard  Capital  is  finely  located.  Guarded  upon 
one  side  by  the  Alps,  and  upon  the  other  by  the  blue 
mountains  of  the  Apennines,  here  is  the  great  plain  of 
Lombarcly,  level  as  a  floor,  covered  with  luxuriant  fields, 
mulberry  groves,  and  vineyards.  It  is  the  principal  seat 
of  manufacture,  five  million  dollars  worth  of  silk  passing 
through  the  American  consulate  to  New  York. 

The  leading  characteristics  of  the  people  are  their 
push,  their  activity,  their  industry,  and  their  enterprise. 
There  are  twelve  or  more  daily  papers, — the  Secolo,  pub- 
lished by  Sonzogno,  and  L'ltalia  del  Popolo,  published 
by  Dario  Papa,  being  the  leading  republican  newspapers 
in  Italy.  The  Milanese  are  tall  and  handsome ;  the  women 
of  the  cultivated  classes  are  strikingly  beautiful,  and  as 
they  roll  past  daily  in  their  gorgeous  carriages,  they 
look  as  if  they  possessed  the  very  gold  of  nature.  And 
the  women  of  the  peasant  classes  also  have  beautiful 
faces,  sweet  and  Madonna-like,  especially  when  young. 

There  are  several  fine  Protestant  churches,  among 
the  oldest  being  the  Waldensian.  What  a  throng  of 
recollections  that  name  calls  up !  The  memories  of  the 
brave  thousands  who  perished  rather  than  surrender  their 
dearest  religious  convictions,  is  one  of  the  historical  facts 
that  can  never  be  forgotten.  Milton,  in  his  noble  ode, 
refers  to  these  heroic  confessors  of  the  faith  : 

"  Avenge,  O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 

Lie  scattered  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold ! 
.    .    .  Their  martyred  blood  and  ashes  sow 

O'er  all  the'  Italian  fields,  where  still  doth  sway 

The  triple  Tyrant,  that  from  these  may  grow 

A  hundred  fold." 
10 


146  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

The  Methodists  are  growing  in  Italy.  Everywhere 
we  see  evidences  of  Methodist  growth  and  Methodist 
prosperity.  The  Epworth  League  is  making  itself  felt 
and  appreciated;  the  old-fashioned  Methodist  revivals 
are  in  full  operation.  At  one  of  their  services  I  witnessed 
a  touching  incident.  At  the  close  of  a  revival  sermon, 
a  child  of  seven  or  eight  years,  with  tearful  emotion, 
left  his  father  and  mother  in  the  pew,  and  stepping  out 
into  the  aisle — the  church  was  crowded — knelt  down 
and  said,  "Preghiamo,"  ("Let  us  pray"),  and  uttered  a 
simple  childish  prayer.  The  effect  was  thrillingly  im- 
pressive, and  the  audience  was  profoundly  moved.  Bishop 
Joyce  came  about  this  time,  and  his  sermon  made  a  deep 
impression.  He  preached  the  old  imperishable  gospel, 
and  he  communicated  to  the  people  the  pentecostal  flame 
with  which  he  himself  was  burning.  One  Italian  Meth- 
odist said  to  me  the  next  day,  "I  felt  as  if  I  had  wings." 
Dr.  Joyce  is  not,  as  a  preacher,  what  one  of  his  Irish 
countrymen  said  of  another,  "Like  green  timber  in  a 
stove,  all  smoke  and  no  fire." 

I  observed,  while  there,  that  Italian  Methodism  needs 
several  changes.  Bishop  J.  M.  Walden,  when  in  Italy, 
made  a  thorough  investigation.  He  is  not  an  optimist 
about  the  progress  of  the  Methodist  Church  in  any 
European  country.  He  is  a  wise  and  thoughtful  observer, 
taking  time  to  make  inquiries.  He  carries  John  Wesley's 
sermons  in  his  pocket,  and  reads  them  in  his  travels.  He 
visits  the  schools,  and  makes  notes  of  all  that  particularly 
attracts  his  attention. 

One  of  the  greatest  needs  of  Methodism  in  Europe 
is  a  native  bishop  who  can  speak  the  modern  languages. 
There  is  a  commodious  Methodist  edifice,  dedicated  in 
Rome  a  few  years  ago,  near  the  War  Department,  and 


METHODIST  CHURCH  IN  ROME. 


CONSUL  AT  MILAN.  147 

in  full  view  of  the  king's  palace.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
audacious  enterprises  of  American  Methodism.  It  is 
grandly  located  on  the  road  between  old  and  new  Rome. 
It  is  to  be  the  headquarters  for  all  the  Methodist  work 
in  Italy.  It  will  contain  a  college,  a  theological  seminary, 
a  Deaconess  Home,  a  printing-house.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Reeder,  a  minister  of  the  North  Ohio  Conference,  a  Chris- 
tian gentleman  well  known  for  his  missionary  labors,  gave 
to  this  institution  the  generous  sum  of  fifteen  thousand 
dollars.  Already  over  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  have 
been  raised,  and  it  will  require  much  more  to  complete 
the  work. 

One  of  the  most  gratifying  results  of  the  preaching 
of  these  Italian  Methodists  is  the  utter  absence  of  con- 
troversial attacks  upon  the  religion  of  the  great  mass  of 
the  Italians.  One  would  hear  more  from  a  roving  secre- 
tary before  an  Annual  Conference  in  America  in  five  min- 
utes, about  the  Pope,  than  he  would  hear  in  Italy  in  ten 
years  from  Methodist  preachers.  While  such  frothy 
declamations  may  delight  the  groundlings,  it  never  suc- 
ceeds in  reaching  those  who  should  be  benefited  by  the 
gospel  of  Christ.  These  foolish  talkers,  when  denounc- 
ing fancied  dangers,  are  usually  silent  upon  the  great  sins 
which  threaten  our  Protestant  Churches.  When  I  hear 
these  declamatory  orations,  I  am  always  reminded  of  the 
young  English  curate  who  asked  Bishop  Horsley's  ad- 
vice as  to  how  to  preach  without  notes.  The  bishop  ad- 
vised him  to  memorize  his  sermons.  "But  suppose  I  for- 
get," replied  the  curate.  "Then,"  said  the  bishop,  "abuse 
the  'Yankees,'  and  when  your  memory  fails  a  second  or 
third  time,  abuse  the  Irish,  the  Pope,  and  the  Jews." 

I  remember  an  old  Californian  who  was  desirous  of 
visiting  the  Italian  Methodist  church  while  I  was  in  Milan. 


148  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

A  portion  of  his  family  went  to  the  cathedral  to  hear  the 
music,  but  he  insisted  upon  going  to  his  own  Church. 
The  minister  preached  a  sermon  of  rare  power,  the  sing- 
ing was  full  of  the  old  Methodist  fire,  and  the  worship 
was  very  fervent.  The  Californian  was  much  interested. 
He  did  not  understand  a  word  of  Italian ;  but  the  thor- 
ough earnestness  of  the  worshipers  touched  his  heart,  and 
he  became  intensely  excited.  The  collectors  came  with 
their  boxes.  The  custom  wras  for  the  congregation  to 
sing  when  the  collection  was  being  taken  up.  So  when 
the  collector  presented  the  box  to  him,  he  put  both  his 
hands  into  his  pockets,  and  drew  out  several  ten-franc 
pieces.  The  singing  still  continued,  and  he  also  contin- 
ued drawing  out  the  ten-franc  notes,  much  to  the  col- 
lector's confusion. 

The  absolute  need  of  a  native  bishop  was  forced  upon 
my  attention  in  a  rather  unpleasant  manner.  The  present 
plan  of  American  bishops  visiting  the  foreign  Confer- 
ences is  expensive,  faulty,  and  useless.  A  native-born 
bishop,  speaking  the  language,  and  in  thorough  sympathy 
with  the  people  in  their  political  and  intellectual  aspira- 
tions, would  be  far  more  efficient.  During  my  residence 
in  Milan,  I  saw  an  illustration  of  this,  in  the  case  of  Bishop 
J.  H.  Vincent,  who  was  appointed  by  his  colleagues  to 
preside  over  the  Italian  Conference  at  Rome.  He  was  ad- 
vertised to  preach  at  Milan  on  a  certain  date,  and  was 
represented  as  being  known  in  two  hemispheres  as  a 
scholar,  an  author,  and  a  speaker  of  rare  eloquence.  The 
press  had  been  notified  of  his  engagement,  and  expecta- 
tion was  on  the  qui  vive  to  hear  this  famous  American  ex- 
plain the  peculiarities  of  the  Methodist  Church,  of  which 
most  of  the  Italians  know  nothing.  I,  too,  shared  in  this 
public  feeling,  and  was  anxious  to  hear  the  gifted  divine. 


CONSUL   AT  MILAN.  149 

irrespective  of  the  pride  I  felt  in  having  a  countryman, 
chartered  and  commissioned  by  his  Episcopal  brethren, 
placed  in  such  a  conspicuous  position.  Rooms  had  been 
taken  at  the  most  prominent  hotel,  and  two  presiding 
elders  were  in  constant  waiting  for  days  to  render  honors 
to  the  distinguished  visitor. 

A  large  crowd,  including  many  eminent  Italians,  was 
present  that  beautiful  Sunday  morning  to  hear  the  dis- 
tinguished American.  Unfortunately  for  the  cause  of 
Methodism,  Bishop  Vincent  failed  to  appear.  No  noti- 
fication that  he  was  not  coming  was  sent,  and  no  expla- 
nation of  his  absence  was  received.  It  was  afterwards 
learned  that  he  was  sojourning  placidly  at  Lake  Lucerne, 
the  attractions  of  the  place  proving  too  great  to  be  aban- 
doned for  so  trivial  a  thing  as  this  engagement  to  preach. 

Among  the  Italian  friends  who  were  present  were"  Mr. 
Dario  Papa  and  his  American  wife,  an  accomplished 
and  kind-hearted  lady.  Dario  Papa  was  the  editor  of 
U Italia  del  Popolo,  the  leading  republican  paper  of  Italy. 
He  made  it  a  tremendous  power  in  the  interests  of  the 
operatives.  In  a  few  years  he  won  an  eminence,  a  fame, 
and  a  name  which  few  have  succeeding  in  reaching.  He 
loved  Italy,  and  the  grand  outbursts  of  indignation 
against  the  oppressors  of  his  native  land,  the  fond  anxiety 
with  which  he  portrayed  her  beauty  and  her  heroism,  the 
sad  and  mournful  murmurs  with  which  he  dwelt  on  her 
misfortunes  and  her  sufferings,  are  a  part  of  the  history 
of  Italy.  Wherever  the  Italian  heart  shall  weep  or  burn 
at  the  thought  of  his  country's  wrongs,  the  writings  of 
Dario  Papa  will  give  new  inspiration  and  power.  He 
died  a  few  years  ago.  His  devoted  wife  returned  to  the 
United  States,  where  she  has  enriched  the  North  Amer- 
ican Review,  and  other  magazines,  with  her  able  articles. 


Chapter   IX. 

INCIDENTS  OF  CONSULAR  LIFE— DISTINGUISHED 

VISITORS. 

THERE  is  no  department  of  the  foreign  service  of  the 
United  States  so  misunderstood  and  unappreciated 
as  the  consular  system.  It  has  been  criticised  by  every 
tyro,  and  by  every  tourist  who  fancied  himself  overlooked 
or  slighted;  by  every  member  of  Congress  who  is  ambi- 
tious to  win  a  reputation  for  economy  with  his  constit- 
uents. Frequently  some  mugwump,  suddenly  seized  with 
a  fit  of  civil  service,  overhauls  all  our  consular  establish- 
ments, and  substitutes  literary  foppery  for  practical  sense. 
He  harps,  like  another  Paganini,  on  one  string,  or,  like 
the  cuckoo,  sings  but  one  refrain. 

The  United  States  consul  has  many  trials  to  endure 
and  many  sacrifices  to  incur.  Out  of  his  slender  salary 
he  is  expected  to  entertain  lavishly  and  to  contribute  to 
every  Church  and  charitable  institution.  If  a  distin- 
guished American,  an  Ex-President,  or  general,  or  states- 
man, takes  a  journey  around  the  world,  as  did  General 
Grant  a  few  years  ago,  and  happens  to  visit  the  city  where 
a  consul  is  located,  that  consul  is  expected  to  give  an 
elaborate  and  costly  banquet,  where  the  leading  social 
aristocrats,  merchants,  and  manufacturers  are  invited  to 
meet  him. 

It  is  not  necessary  here  to  give  the  history  of  consuls — 
to  go  back  to  Rome,  or  cite  the  illustrious  example  of 
Napoleon,  the  first  consul  honored  by  the  title.  In  the 
United  States  the  system  of  sending  consuls  abroad  com- 

150 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  151 

menced  immediately  after  the  Revolution,  when  they  were 
appointed  without  salaries.  In  1856  a  law  was  passed 
grading  consulships  into  seven  classes.  The  class  without 
a  fixed  salary  was  allowed  to  engage  in  mercantile  pur- 
suits; consuls  with  salaries  fixed  by  the  Department  of 
State  were  to  be  exclusively  employed  in  Government 
business.  The  salaries  range  from  one  thousand  to  four 
thousand  dollars  per  year,  being  supplemented  by  what 
is  called  notarial  fees.  In  some  cities,  especially  in  Lon- 
don, Paris,  Milan,  and  BerHn,  these  fees  increase  the  regu- 
lar salary  one-third,  oftener  more.  If  an  American  desires 
to  execute  a  deed,  make  a  will,  sign  a  contract,  or  any- 
thing of  that  nature,  it  is  called  notarial,  and  the  consul 
is  remunerated  as  a  lawyer  for  his  official  services. 

The  duties  of  a  consul  are  arduous,  difficult,  and 
frequently  complicated.  The  common  idea  that  a  consul 
has  nothing  to  do  is  very  erroneous.  It  is  his  duty  to  see 
that  the  treaties  between  his  country  and  the  one  to  which 
he  is  appointed  are  faithfully  carried  out ;  that  Americans 
arrested  or  defrauded  are  given  a  fair  trial.  In  cities 
where  ships  anchor,  he  is  expected  to  watch  the  move- 
ments of  vessels,  and  to  assist,  with  funds  supplied  by  the 
Government,  distressed  sailors.  It  is  his  duty  to  sign 
the  certificates  of  all  invoices,  and  to  testify  that  the 
goods  invoiced  correspond  to  those  manufactured.  He 
must  sign  three  invoices — one  to  be  given  to  the  shipper ; 
one  forwarded  to  the  collector  of  the  port  of  New  York, 
Boston,  San  Francisco,  or  wherever  the  goods  are  to  be 
delivered;  one  is  retained  in  the  office.  Then  he  must 
make  reports  every  three  months,  every  six  months,  every 
year,  to  the  State  and  Treasury  Departments.  He  keeps 
a  record  of  all  the  invoices  and  notarials  he  receives,  and 
sends  this  record  to  the  Treasury  Department,  which 


152  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

must  be  sworn  to  before  a  magistrate.  He  may  be  as 
pure  as  Washington,  as  honest  as  Aristides,  but  his  simple 
word  is  not  enough.  He  makes  similar  reports  to  the 
consul-general.  If  there  is  a  single  error — if  a  t  is  not 
crossed,  an  envelope  not  properly  sealed — the  report  is 
often  returned  for  correction.  To  inexperienced  consuls, 
who  have  no  clerks,  but  do  all  the  work  themselves,  this 
is  very  embarrassing.  There  are  many  other  duties  de- 
volving upon  the  consul.  He  is  frequently  called  upon 
by  the  Department  for  reports  upon  banks,  roads,  streets, 
methods  of  packing  goods,  commerce,  railroads,  beggars, 
crimes,  etc.  If  an  American  dies  in  his  district,  it  is  his 
business  to  visit  the  hotel  or  house  and  get  all  the  facts, 
take  an  account  of  his  effects,  the  nature  of  the  disease, 
the  disposal  of  the  body,  and  then  send  on  name  and  date 
to  the  Department. 

The  consul  rents  his  office  in  a  conspicuous  part  of 
the  city,  and  is  solely  responsible  for  the  rent  and  all 
the  office  expenses,  although  he  is  allowed  a  sum  equal 
to  one-fifth  of  his  salary  for  the  rent  by  the  Government, 
nothing  for  servants  and  fuel,  and  only  a  small  amount 
for  clerk  hire.  Unless  a  consul  sweeps  out  and  takes  care 
of  his  own  office,  a  servant  is  a  necessity.  In  many  of  the 
consulates,  where  the  salary  is  small,  the  consul  can  not 
afford  this,  and  so  the  servant  hire  is  put  down  in  the 
expenses  sent  to  the  Government  as  ''stationery"  or 
"stamps." 

The  appointment  of  an  American  consul  rests  with 
the  President,  and  he  is  allowed  thirty  days  and  a  month's 
salary  in  advance.  His  appointment  must  be  satisfactory 
to  the  Government  to  which  he  is  assigned,  else  there 
is  no  exequatur  given  him.  An  exequatur  is  a  permission 
to  exercise  the  functions  of  his  office.  If  the  new  ap- 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  153 

pointee  has  ever  said  anything  against  the  king,  em- 
peror, or  queen,  the  fact  is  reported  by  the  ambassador, 
a  copy  of  the  speech  is  forwarded,  and  the  consul  might 
as  well  remain  at  home ;  for  his  services  will  not  be  needed 
elsewhere. 

The  office  hours  in  all  the  salaried  consulates  are  from 
ten  to  four.  The  consul  has  few  privileges.  If  he  is  ab- 
sent under  sixty  days,  the  vice-consul  is  entitled  to  half 
the  salary;  and  if  over  sixty  days,  he  gets  all  of  it.  The 
qualifications  for  a  consul  by  European  Governments  are 
thorough  and  extensive.  In  England,  the  applicant  is 
put  through  a  searching  examination.  He  must  be  able 
to  speak  and  write  English  and  French,  and  have  a  prac- 
tical knowledge  of  all  the  common  branches;  he  must 
serve  an  apprenticeship  in  the  London  office.  It  is  the 
same  in  France;  he  must  commence  undec  twenty-five, 
and  must  be  a  graduate  of  one  of  the  numerous  schools 
and  colleges  of  that  country.  In  Italy,  Germany,  and 
Belgium,  similar  laws  prevail.  Hitherto  the  qualifications 
in  the  United  States  have  not  been  so  sweeping  and  ex- 
acting as  those  of  the  nations  mentioned.  An  appoint- 
ment by  the  President,  and  confirmed  by  the  Senate,  has 
been  all  that  was  required.  There  is  a  growing  demand 
for  men  whose  attainments  will  compare  favorably  with 
the  consuls  of  other  Governments.  The  consul  should 
have,  if  not  a  comprehensive  knowledge  of  the  laws  which 
govern  nations — the  Jewish  law,  the  Christian  code,  the 
Roman  law — by  all  means  a  knowledge  of  the  laws  of 
his  own  land.  A  knowledge  of  the  language  is  absolutely 
essential.  An  American  appointed  to  a  continental  con- 
sulate, and  attempting  to  transact  business  without  even 
a  smattering  of  the  language,  is  like  the  Methodist 
preacher  who  became  an  Episcopalian  and  desired  ordi- 


154  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

nation.  The  bishop  asked  him,  "Have  you  read  any 
books  of  ours  upon  the  Church?"  "No,"  was  the  reply, 
"but  I  am  going  to  write  one."  The  candidate  should 
have  a  conversational  knowledge  of  all  the  modern  lan- 
guages— French,  German,  Spanish,  and  Italian. 

Yet,  despite  all  the  poor  salaries  and  lack  of  scientific 
and  classical  attainments,  our  consuls  rank  high.  An  emi- 
nent Frenchman,  in  an  address  delivered  to  his  country- 
men some  time  ago  at  Paris,  said :  "American  consuls  are 
shrewd,  well-educated  men,  placed  where  they  can  do  the 
most  good,  and  they  are  required  not  only  to  look  after 
the  interests  of  their  compatriots,  but  also  to  make  them- 
selves masters  of  every  detail  respecting  the  commerce 
of  the  countries  in  which  they  are  placed,  and  to  report 
to  headquarters  as  to  what  articles  can  with  advantage 
be  imported  to  their  country.  Their  reports  are  gener- 
ally comprehensive  and  complete,  and  are  read  with  avid- 
ity by  merchants,  manufacturers,  and  workmen." 

The  duties  prescribed  by  the  consular  regulations  do 
not  embrace  one-hundredth  part  of  the  unwritten  things 
devolving  upon  an  American  consul  in  any  of  the  large 
manufacturing  cities  of  Europe.  He  is  asked  to  arbitrate 
in  questions  requiring  the  finesse  of  a  finished  politician 
or  a  learned  lawyer.  He  must  possess  the  wisdom  of  a 
Solomon  and  the  wealth  of  a  Rothschild  to  advise  wisely 
and  aid  all  those  who  come  to  him  for  help  and  advice. 
His  visitors  are  not  all  of  that  worthy  class  of  citizens  that 
makes  one  glad  to  acknowledge  them  as  countrymen. 
A  Swiss,  a  Russian,  a  German,  a  Spaniard,  if  he  has  lived 
a  month  or  a  day  in  America,  as  soon  as  he  is  in  trouble, 
seeks  the  American  consulate,  and  demands  assistance 
on  the  score  of  being  an  American  citizen.  The  consul 
may  be  one  of  the  most  pacific  and  peace-loving  of  men. 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  155 

and  yet  his  footsteps  will  be  dogged  in  the  daytime  by 
persistent  beggars  who  threaten  to  shoot  themselves  in 
his  pathway  if  he  does  not  give  them  money,  and  his 
sleeping  hours  be  haunted  by  the  specter  Remorse  because 
he  did  not  give  his  last  suit  of  clothes  to  the  suave  and 
gentlemanly  youth  who  asked  for  it.  The  postman  brings 
him  mysterious  billets-doux  which,  on  being  opened,  are 
found  to  contain  a  challenge  to  mortal  combat  from  the 
Spaniard  to  whom  he  refused  to  lend  one  hundred  dollars 
the  day  before ;  and  when  he  is  not  asked  to  take  the  part 
of  principal  in  a  duel,  he  may  be  requested  to  act  as  second 
to  a  young  prince  who  has  had  a  quarrel  with  one  of  his 
countrymen.  He  receives  letters  from  American  women 
requesting  him  to  rent  for  them  a  Roman  villa  near  Milan ; 
or  to  buy,  "for  a  lady  in  Kentucky,"  a  donkey  with  a  white 
spot  on  its  nose ;  or  for  a  gentleman  in  Boston  a  complete 
suit  of  Roman  armor — breastplate,  helmet,  and  sword. 
Requests  of  this  kind  are  always  unaccompanied  with 
funds,  and  the  consul  is  asked  to  make  the  purchases  at 
his  own  expense,  and  the  money  will  be  refunded  if  the 
commission  has  been  satisfactorily  executed.  I  did  this 
once,  but  never  a  second  time.  Experience  is  a  stern 
teacher. 

Those  who  attempt  to  obtain  money  from  the  consul 
under  false  pretenses  are  many.  There  came  to  me  one 
morning  a  well-educated  woman,  of  handsome  presence, 
finely  dressed,  and  a  brilliant  conversationalist.  She  said 
she  had  lately  been  married,  and  her  husband  was  the 
United  States  commercial  agent  at  one  of  the  East  In- 
dian ports.  He  was  taking  his  vacation,  had  been  taken 
ill  at  the  hotel,  and,  as  the  illness  had  greatly  increased 
their  expenses,  she  would  like  me  to  cash  a  draft  for  her, 
as  it  would  take  so  long  before  they  could  get  the  money 


156  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

from  home.  I  was  obliged  to  refuse.  The  woman  begged 
and  pleaded  with  tears,  but  it  was  no  use.  She  then  went 
to  a  bank  in  the  city,  and  succeeded  in  getting  the  money. 
A  few  weeks  later,  the  bank  officials  were  anxiously  inquir- 
ing at  the  office  if  anything  was  known  of  the  party.  They 
had  sent  the  draft  on  to  Washington  for  collection,  and 
found  that  the  man  was  an  all-around  rascal,  and  had 
long  ago  overdrawn  his  bank  account.  He  had  been  the 

United  States  agent  at  B y ;  but  wine,  women,  and 

cards  had  proved  his  ruin.  The  woman  with  him  was  not 
his  wife.  The  bank  was  out  just  five  hundred  dollars. 

For  several  successive  days  a  genial  gentleman 
dropped  into  the  office,  and  highly  entertained  the  vice- 
consul  and  myself  with  thrilling  accounts  of  his  travels. 
At  the  end  of  a  few  days  he  desired  just  a  small  loan, 
one  hundred  dollars,  as  he  was  suffering  a  little  finan- 
cial embarrassment,  and  it  would  be  some  time  before 
he  could  get  his  money  from  home.  The  loan  was  re- 
fused, and  as  the  gentleman  took  his  departure  he  mur- 
mured words  the  opposite  of  a  religious  character,  and 
the  atmosphere  about  him  was  deeply  tinged  with  a  ceru- 
lean hue.  Before  coming  to  Milan  he  had  spent  some 
time  at  Monte  Carlo,  which  probably  accounted  for  his 
financial  difficulty. 

One  evening,  about  nine  o'clock,  two  distracted  young 
women  appeared  at  the  consulate.  The  sights  of  the  city 
had  proved  too  seductive,  they  had  lingered  longer  than 
they  had  intended,  their  money  was  all  gone,  and  the 
landlord  had  set  their  trunk  in  the  hall.  They  had  a 
ticket  to  Paris;  but  that  was  a  two  days'  journey — no 
money,  cruel  landlord,  tears — would  the  consul  lend 
them  -  —?  The  consul  did,  and  a  week  later  received 
a  post-office  order  from  Paris  for  the  amount  loaned. 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  157 

My  faith  in  human  nature  went  up  a  point.  Then  came 
a  suave  gentleman,  who  owned  vast  pine-forests  in  Maine. 
His  greeting  was  effusive.  "Ah,  my  dear  sir,  I  am  so 
happy  to  meet  you !  I  am  a  great  traveler,  and  the  first 
thing  I  always  do  when  I  arrive-  in  a  city  is  to  hunt  up 
the  consul.  I  know  that  a  Government  official  can  not 
receive  presents;  but  your  wife  is  not  under  restrictions 
of  that  kind,  and  I  want  to  make  her  a  present  of  a  fine 
broche  shawl.  O,  you  must  not  say  no.  I  have  a  num- 
ber of  beautiful  things  I  ana  bringing  home  from  India, 
and  I  will  feel  really  offended  if  you  do  not  let  me  give 
your  wife  a  shawl.  My  things  are  not  here,  but  they 
will  be  in  a  few  days,  when  I  will  bring  it  around.  And, 
by  the  way,  can  you  not  dine  with  me  at  my  hotel  to- 
night— you  and  your  excellent  vice-consul?"  I  declined; 
but  the  vice-consul  nibbled  at  the  bait,  and  a  week  later 
was  presented  by  the  hotel  proprietor  with  a  bill  for  board 
for  the  gentleman  from  Maine,  wrho  was  traveling  around 
the  country  with  broche  shawls  to  give  away  as  presents. 
He  had  slipped  away  in  the  night-time,  leaving  nothing 
behind  but  a  trunk  full  of  patent  medicine,  doubtless  oil 
from  the  pine-forests  of  Maine.  The  vice-consul  was 
obliged  to  settle  the  bill,  as  his  acceptance  of  the  dinner 
invitation  and  publicly  appearing  in  the  man's  company 
made  him  responsible  for  his  debts.  Such  is  the  law  in 
Italy. 

An  Italian  sent  in  a  request  for  an  American  wife, 
saying  that  the  American  girls  made  better  housekeepers 
than  the  Italian  girls.  In  cases  of  this  kind  a  consul  will 
do  well  to  steer  clear  of  the  filmy  meshes  of  the  little  god 
of  love,  or  he  may  find  a  tearful  American  girl,  after  a 
brief  honeymoon,  seeking  to  be  sent  back  to  her  friends. 

"Yes,  I  am  the  King  of  Strength,  and  I  have  called 


158  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

upon  you  to  see  if  you  will  aid  me  in  recovering  twenty- 
five  dollars,  of  which  the  manager  of  the  theater 

has  robbed  me.  You  see,  he  paid  me  in  paper  money,  and 
I  will  have  to  have  it  changed  into  gold  before  I  leave 
the  country,  and  will  thereby  lose  twenty-five  dollars." 

The  King  of  Strength  could  scarcely  get  through  the 
door,  being  about  as  broad  as  he  was  long.  "I  want  you 
to  recommend  me  to  a  good  smart  lawyer,  who  can  take 
up  the  case  and  carry  it  through  for  me." 

"Have  you  any  signed  contract  to  the  effect  that 
you  were  to  be  paid  in  gold?"  I  asked. 

"There  is  a  contract,  but  it  is  not  stated  in  what 
medium  the  money  is  to  be  paid." 

"Then  I  am  afraid  the  smartest  lawyer  in  the  country 
could  not  help  you.  Nothing  goes  here  that  is  not  down 
in  black  and  white." 

"Well,  I  have  learned  a  lesson  then,  and  I  will  know 
in  future  how  to  arrange  a  contract  with  a  foreign 
theatrical  manager.  Won't  you  come  over  to  the  theater 
to-night?  I  can  show  you  some  feats  of  strength  that 
will  certainly  amaze  you.  I  can  bend  a  bar  of  iron  double, 
and  straighten  it  out  again.  There  is  a  complimentary 
ticket;  bring  your  family  and  come  around." 

One  morning  a  woman  presented  herself  at  the  office 
who  was  evidently  not  in  her  right  mind.  She  told  a 
rambling  story  about  a  visit  to  Genoa.  She  had  met  on 
the  steamer,  coming  over,  an  Italian  family,  with  whom 
she  engaged  to  board  for  a  while.  But  after  arriving  at 
the  house,  she  found  there  was  only  one  sleeping-room 
for  the  whole  family  and  herself;  so  she  decided  to  go 
to  a  hotel.  It  was  late  at  night,  and  every  hotel  refused 
to  take  her,  because  she  was  alone,  and  she  was  obliged 
to  go  to  the  depot  and  stay  there  all  night.  This  part 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  159 

of  her  story  was  afterward  corroborated.  She  desired 
the  consul  to  send  a  telegram  for  her  to  her  brother 
in  New  York.  She  said  that  her  brother  was  dead,  but 
he  would  get  the  telegram  anyway.  She  then  dictated 
a  wild  and  incoherent  message  that  would  have  taken  a 
month's  salary  to  send,  but  I  did  not  send  it.  A  servant 
was  sent  with  her  to  a  quiet  boarding-place,  and  nothing 
more  was  heard  of  her  for  several  days.  Then  she  came 
in  one  morning,  saying  she  had  received  an  answer  from 
her  brother,  and  she  desired  to  pay  for  the  telegram — 
that  was .  quietly  resting  in  my  waste-basket.  I  said  it 
did  n't  matter  about  the  money,  and  for  her  not  to  worry 
about  it.  But  she  insisted,  and  as  she  was  becoming 
nervous  and  hysterical,  I  said  I  guessed  a  franc  would 
cover  the  amount.  She  paid  me  this  sum,  and  I  sur- 
prised the  next  beggar  I  met  by  dropping  it  into  his 
hand.  This  woman  traveled  all  over  France  and  Italy, 
and  why  her  relations  or  friends  permitted  it  will  always 
remain  a  mystery.  Five  minutes'  conversation  with  her 
would  reveal  to  the  most  obtuse  that  she  was  mentally 
unbalanced. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  different  varieties  of  callers  at  a 
consular  office.  There  are  some  who,  when  their  demands 
for  money  are  refused,  threaten  dire  things  to  the  consul. 
They  will  write  at  once  to  the  Department  at  Washing- 
ton, and  have  him  removed;  or  they  will  write  to  the 
American  papers,  and  have  him  exposed ;  or  they  will  pub- 
lish his  misdeeds  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  The  mis- 
deeds are  supposed  to  be  the  misappropriation  of  munif- 
icent funds  confided  by  the  Government  to  his  keeping 
for  the  benefit  of  his  impecunious  countrymen  abroad. 

Italians  often  come  to  him  for  assistance  in  recover- 
ing lost  relatives, — lost  either  in  America  or  elsewhere. 


160  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

One  little  dark-eyed  woman  sought  my  office,  and  begged 
me  to  see  if  the  United  States  would  not  indemnify  her 
for  the  loss  of  her  husband.  He  had  sailed  for  America 
or  Australia — she  did  not  know  which — and  as  he  had 
never  returned,  she  thought  the  United  States  ought  to 
make  good  his  loss.  Another  Italian  woman  had  been 
told  that  the  United  States  Government  would  settle  her 
claim  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  against  a  missing 
boarder — the  son  of  a  Philadelphia  clergyman.  Why 
Philadelphia,  and  why  clergyman,  I  can  not  say;  but  the 
majority  of  missing  boarders,  leaving  unpaid  bills  behind 
them,  are  represented  as  sons  of  Philadelphia  clergymen. 

A  man  from  Cincinnati  posted  a  notice  in  one  of  the 
principal  hotels  in  Milan  to  the  effect  that  a  certain  bar- 
ber in  that  city  had  died,  and  left  a  fortune  of  a  million 
dollars.  Immediately  my  office  was  besieged  by  an  army 
of  relatives,  all  anxious  to  establish  their  relationship,  and 
secure  a  slice  of  the  fortune.  Communication  was  opened 
with  the  authorities  at  Cincinnati,  when  it  was  learned  that 
the  barber  had  died  and  left  several  children  for  the  city 
to  support! 

I  wish  to  say  here,  though  it  has  no  relation  to  what 
has  preceded,  that  I  never  found  more  faithful  and  de- 
voted servants  than  in  Italy.  When  we  decided  to  return 
to  America,  we  immediately  told  the  servants,  in  order 
that  they  might  have  an  opportunity  to  find  situations 
elsewhere.  One  maid,  Ernesta,  was  successful  in  find- 
ing a  place  at  once,  and  she  was  to  go  to  it  as  soon  as  we 
left.  But  the  days  and  weeks  passed,  and  still  we  were 
detained.  Her  new  employer  became  impatient,  and  told 
her  she  must  come  at  once,  or  she  could  not  have  the 
situation.  Ernesta  then  told  us  that  if  we  were  sure  that 
we  would  remain  a  month  longer,  she  would  give  up  the 


DRIVE  BETWEEN  MILAN  AND  MONZA. 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  l6l 

situation  and  remain  with  us.  But  we  did  not  know.  As 
the  Government  was  delaying  the  appointment  of  a,  new 
consul,  it  might  be  a  month,  and  it  might  be  only  a  week. 
We  advised  her  to  go  at  once  to  the  new  situation,  much 
as  we  would  miss  her,  and  with  tears  she  left  us.  A  week 
later,  at  her  usual  hour,  ten  o'clock,  she  walked  in,  and 
resumed  her  duties.  On  questioning  her,  she  told  us  she 
had  worked  faithfully  for  her  new  padrona  a  week,  and 
then  had  gone  to  her  and  said,  "Well,  are  you  satisfied 
with  me?"  "Yes."  "And  with  my  work?"  "Yes,  en- 
tirely satisfied."  "Then  let  me  go  back  to  my  padrone 
Americane,  and  stay  until  they  go  to  America,  and  then 
I  will  come  and  stay  with  you  as  long  as  you  want  me  to." 
The  Italian  woman  hesitated ;  she  did  not  like  to  lose  the 
new  servant  that  gave  such  satisfaction.  "You  had  bet- 
ter let  me  go,"  said  Ernesta,  shrewdly,  "and  then  I  will 
come  back  to  you ;  if  you  do  not,  I  will  go  any  way,  and 
I  will  not  come  back  at  all."  So  she  came  and  stai'd  with 
us  until  our  departure,  some  three  or  four  months  later, 
when  she  still  found  the  other  situation  open  to  her.  Only 
an  Italian  peasant  woman,  and  yet  the  last  we  saw  of  her 
little,  old,  wrinkled  face,  the  tears  were  streaming  down 
it  as  she  left  the  depot  as  our  train  was  speeding  away 
from  Milan. 

There  is  one  class  of  United  States  officials  who  have 
never  been  appreciated  according  to  their  deserts ;  I  mean 
the  vice-consul.  These  unknown  and  unrewarded  men 
have  rendered  valuable  services  to  their  countrymen. 
They  speak  all  the  modern  languages  of  Europe,  and  have 
a  practical  knowledge  of  the  commercial  and  other  affairs 
which  interest  the  countries  they  represent.  Mr.  Elaine 
said  to  me,  when  I  received  my  appointment  to  Milan, 
"You  will  find  there  a  tried,  true,  and  faithful  vice-consul 


362  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

in  Mr.  Anthony  Richman."  I  found  Mr.  Elaine's  words 
true,  and  many  an  American  can  also  testify  to  the  same ; 
for  they  have  received  from  him  helpful  words  and  wise 
•counsel.  Milan  is  the  great  musical  city  of  the  world.  The 
very  air  is  charged  with  music,  and  hither  come  annually 
hundreds  of  inexperienced  American  girls.  These  girls 
.always  found  in  Anthony  Richman  a  true  friend  and  bene- 
factor when  they  needed  help  and  comfort.  It  was  said  of 
him  that  he  "would  walk  his  feet  off  for  an  American," 
and  I  found  this  to  be  almost  literally  true.  Somewhere 
in  one  of  our  Western  cities  lives  a  clergyman.  He  was 
.spending  his  honeymoon  in  Italy,  when  his  beautiful  bride 
was  seized  with  a  fatal  illness.  He  could  not  understand 
.a  word  of  the  language,  and  the  hotel  people  were  seized 
with  a  panic.  The  bride  died,  and  could  not  be  buried 
without  a  permit  from  the  Government  at  Rome.  In  his 
trouble  and  despair,  the  clergyman  came  to  the  consulate, 
and  flung  himself  upon  the  floor.  Mr.  Richman  procured 
the  necessary  papers,  and  the  wife  of  three  months  was 
buried  in  the  beautiful  cemetery  at  Milan.  I  know  not 
if  the  memory  of  that  clergyman  sometimes  travels  back 
to  Italy,  and  visits  a  lonely  grave ;  but  I  do  know  that  as 
long  as  Anthony  Richman  lived,  he  and  his  wife  went 
annually  and  placed  a  bouquet  of  flowers  on  the  grave 
of  the  young  American  buried  so  far  from  home  and 
friends. 

He  died  at  the  close  of  my  term,  and  it  became  my 
melancholy  privilege  to  deliver  his  funeral  oration.  As 
I  recounted  the  lovable  traits  of  his  character — his  hon- 
esty ;  his  charity,  a  hand  open  as  the  day  to  the  appeal  of 
the  suffering;  his  integrity,  a  more  honorable  man  never 
held  position  under  our  Government ;  his  patriotism, — the 
audience  responded  in  the  Italian  fashion,  "Bravo ! 


CONSULAR  LIFE.    ,  163 

bravo !"  He  stood  by  me  in  the  two  darkest  hours  of  my 
life,  and  his  memory  will  be  forever  dear  to  me. 

He  had  been  in  the  office  at  Milan  nearly  twenty  years, 
and  was  thoroughly  conversant  with  all  the  details  con- 
nected with  the  consular  business,  and  his  place  was  hard 
to  supply. 

American  consuls  in  the  faithful  discharge  of  their 
duties  often  incur  great  risks  to  their  positions,  and  occa- 
sionally to  their  lives.  If  their  reports  criticise  the  action 
of  the  exporters  and  manufacturers,  complaint  is  made 
to  the  Government,  and  their  removal  is  demanded. 
Again,  if  their  reports  refer  adversely  to  the  teachers  and 
professors  of  music,  painting,  or  sculpture,  they  take  their 
chances  of  being  stabbed  or  shot  down  in  the  streets. 
There  have  been  several  cases  where  consuls,  after  their 
removal  from  office,  have  been  sued  for  damages,  because 
of  their  honest  reports  to  the  Department.  I  had  seen, 
during  my  residence  in  Milan,  so  many  American  girls 
deceived  and  driven  to  the  verge  of  despair  by  the  high 
expectations  which  they  were  led  to  entertain  of  immedi- 
ate success  in  music,  that  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  write  a  state- 
ment to  the  authorities  at  Washington,  telling  the  facts 
as  to  the  expense  of  board,  tuition,  and  of  certain  Italian 
customs  of  which  American  girls,  and  of  course  their 
parents,  know  nothing.  The  report  was  deemed  of  such 
importance  that  the  State  Department  gave  it  immedi- 
ately to  the  press.  It  was  widely  circulated  in  the  United 
States,  and  copied  into  all  the  leading  papers  of  Europe. 
Labouchere,  the  brilliant  and  caustic  editor  of  Truth,  re- 
ported it.  I  will  append  a  synopsis  of  it  here:  "Rev. 
G.  W.  Pepper,  United  States  consul  at  Milan,  has  made 
an  interesting  report  upon  the  difficulties  encountered  by 
American  musical  students.  He  says :  'The  great  majority 


1 64  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

of  young  students  who  come  to  finish  off  their  musical 
education  return  to  their  homes  disgusted.  The  selection 
of  a  teacher  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  problems  which 
confront  the  new  arrival.  Now  that  the  two  famous 
teachers,  San  Giovanni  and  Lamperti,  are  dead,  there 
are  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  others,  more  or  less  culti- 
vated. Young  women  who  are  wrongly  allowed  to  come 
alone  to  this  country  are  met  by  another  difficulty — a 
social  etiquette  which  forbids  them  taking  a  lesson  unless 
a  third  party  is  present,  and  which  condemns  their  ap- 
pearing alone  in  public.  This  custom  is  gradually  giving 
way  to  more  advanced  and  liberal  ideas,  but  the  violation 
of  it  has  recently  placed  several  American  women  in  most 
annoying  positions. 

1  'The  price  of  lessons  is,  on  an  average,  twenty  dol- 
lars a  month,  the  rent  of  a  piano  fifty  cents  per  month, 
board  $30,  lessons  in  the  Italian  language  forty  cents  per 
hour. 

"  'But  however  well  equipped  and  however  strong  the 
energy  of  the  young  people,  they  are  not  prepared  for  the 
difficulties  which  await  them.  After  the  year  or  two  re- 
garded as  sufficient  to  prepare  them  for  their  profession, 
they  soon  find  that  without  a  year's  more  study  the  time 
and  money  spent  are  utterly  lost.  At  this  point  a  few, 
being  refused  further  help  from  home,  or  realizing  that 
their  talents  do  not  justify  them  in  making  any  further 
effort,  abandon  the  profession,  and  return  to  their  homes. 
In  three  years,  however,  out  of  a  hundred  who  have  come 
to  Milan  to  have  their  voices  tested,  only  one,  to  my 
knowledge,  received  an  honest  verdict  from  the  master  to 
the  effect  that  her  voice  did  not  justify  her  in  commenc- 
ing lessons.  Unfortunately  the  majority  of  them  are  led 
to  believe  that  they  are  destined  to  a  brilliant  and  suc- 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  165 

cessful  career.  They  remain  from  month  to  month,  from 
year  to  year,  continuing  their  lessons  and  waiting  for  en- 
gagements. There  is  not  so  much  villainy  and  falseness 
on  the  part  of  the  impresarios  and  agents  as  we  are  led  to 
believe  by  disappointed  singers.  But  many  of  them  are 
deceitful  in  their  dealings. 

'  'There  have  been  three  cases  brought  to  my  atten- 
tion where  the  cupidity  of  the  master  in  wishing  to  keep 
his  pupils  for  a  long  time,  in  order  to  receive  their  money, 
caused  the  unsettling  of  their  reason. 

"  'Wrong  ideas  with  regard  to  the  cheapness  of  living 
in  Italy  is  also  another  reason  for  their  failure.  No  one 
can  live  here  for  less  than  sixty  dollars  per  month,  includ- 
ing lessons,  and  yet  the  majority  come  with  an  income 
much  less.  Many  hope  to  enter  the  Royal  Conservatory, 
where  tuition  is  very  low ;  but  very  few  are  the  Americans 
who  succeed  in  doing  so,  as  the  conditions  for  entering 
are  very  severe.  No  one  over  twenty  years  of  age  is  ac- 
cepted, and  she  must  have  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
Italian.  Out  of  a  hundred  American  singers  now  resid- 
ing in  Milan,  not  one  has  succeeded  in  entering  this  year. 
The  majority  of  the  American  students  are  from  New 
York,  Ohio,  and  California.  The  quality  of  their  voices 
in  purity  and  range  is  said  to  surpass  those  of  other  na- 
tions; but  the  fact  is  apparent  that  not  more  than  five 
per  cent  of  them  attain  great  success  on  the  stage.' ' 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  the  consternation 
that  followed  the  republication  of  this  report  in  the  Mi- 
lanese and  Italian  papers.  The  teachers,  agents,  and  pub- 
lishers of  music-books,  the  hotel  and  boarding-house 
keepers,  all  people  dependent  on  travelers  for  sustenance, 
at  once  joined  in  a  shout  of  execration;  the  report  of  the 
consul  was  a  conspiracy  against  the  good  character  of 


1 66  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Milan!  It  looked  alarmingly  threatening  for  me,  and  I 
was  warned  to  be  prepared  for  some  sudden  attack  upon 
myself  or  the  consulate.  However,  the  Milanese  news- 
papers came  to  my  help.  The  Secolo,  the  most  widely- 
read  paper  in  Italy,  said,  "The  consul  may  have  exagger- 
ated, but  it  is  unfortunately  too  true  what  he  has  said." 
The  Carrier e  della  Sera,  in  a  vigorous  editorial  said :  "The 
consul  has  not  told  half  the  facts;  there  ought  to  be  a 
public  institution  for  the  relief  of  American  students." 
The  Italia  del  Popolo,  "The  consul  has  only  told  the  brutal 
truth."  A  few  days  afterwards,  Professor  Fontana,  in  a 
lecture  before  a  literary  audience,  read  the  report  and 
indorsed  it  most  heartily,  asking,  "Where  is  the  Italian 
consul  who  would  have  the  courage  of  this  American  con- 
sul to  look  after  and  defend  his  poor  country-women?" 
Copies  of  the  papers  containing  notices  of  and  comments 
on  the  report  were  sent  to  the  Department  of  State  and 
filed. 

While  in  Milan  it  was  often  my  privilege  to  meet  men 
and  women  famous  in  the  different  arts  and  professions. 
It  was  thus  that  I  met  Miss  Ada  Rehan,  the  foremost 
actress  in  America  to-day.  She  had  just  finished  her 
London  engagements,  and  had  come  to  Italy  for  a  rest. 
She  has  the  witchery  and  winning  truthfulness  of  Helen 
Fawcett;  her  voice  is  rich,  strong,  and  musical.  I  con- 
versed with  her  there,  and  afterwards  in  Cleveland,  and 
in  answer  to  my  questions  in  regard  to  voices  and  elo- 
cution, she  did  not  hesitate  to  give  her  opinion.  Speak- 
ing of  Beecher,  she  said  he  was  the  "most  perfect  elocu- 
tionist she  ever  heard  in  the  pulpit ;  that  there  was  not  his 
equal  in  his  day;  he  was  master  of  the  art  of  oratory. 
Tennyson's  voice  was  so  magnificent  that  to  hear  him 


CONSULAR   LIFE.  1 67 

read  some  of  his  own  matchless  poems  was  like  listening 
to  Forrest  and  Macready  read  the  masterpieces  of  Shakes- 
peare ;  there  was  so  much  beauty  in  the  ever-varying  ex- 
pressions that  his  reading  was  like  a  memory  that  never 
could  be  forgotten."  She  then  referred  to  the  pope's 
marvelous  voice.  It  was  "so  sweet,  so  full,  so  pure,  so 
sincere;  its  lowest  tones  could  be  distinctly  heard,  but 
when  he  raised  his  voice  thousands  had  no  trouble  in 
hearing  him."  Gladstone's  voice  had  a  "soft  and  brilliant 
power,  which  thrilled  on  the  ear  delightfully,  endowed 
with  that  rotundity  and  full  body  of  melody  that  gave  such 
distinct  and  mellow  grandeur  to  the  voices  of  Chatham, 
Chalmers,  and  Grattan."  Miss  Rehan  was  accompanied 
by  her  manager,  Mr.  Augustin  Daly,  the  successsful  and 
popular  playwright  of  the  United  States,  who  is  entitled 
to  the  thanks  ot  the  patrons  of  the  drama  for  his  efforts 
to  refine  and  elevate  the  stage. 

When  Lord  Dufferin  was  the  British  Ambassador  to 
Italy,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him.  He  received  me 
promptly,  saying,  "I  am  always  glad  to  see  an  American." 
He  gave  me  many  reminiscences  of  his  sojourns  in  India, 
Constantinople,  Canada,  and  Rome.  In  all  of  these  coun- 
tries he  represented  the  English  Government.  Lord 
Dufferin  impressed  me  as  a  man  of  most  magnificent 
genius  in  all  departments  of  diplomacy  and  of  literature. 
He  was  moved  when  I  told  him  that  the  simple  ballad  of 
his  illustrious  mother,  "I  am  bidding  you  a  long  farewell, 
my  Mary  kind  and  true,"  was  read  and  treasured  in  the 
backwoods  of  America.  Lord  Dufferin,  with  the  blood 
of  the  Sheridans  in  his  veins,  has  upheld  in  the  world's 
proudest  capitals  the  character  of  his  ancestors  for  ability 
and  power.  He  has,  within  the  last  few  years,  become  in- 


1 68  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

timately  related  to  our  country  by  the  marriage  of  his  son 
to  one  of  America's  beautiful  heiresses — Miss  Davis,  of 
New  York. 

I  have  celebrated  our  glorious  Independence-day 
under  many  varied  circumstances;  but  perhaps  the  most 
agreeable  was  the  one  I  spent  upon  Lake  Como,  the 
guest  of  Dr.  Terry,  an  American,  who  had  lived  twenty 
years  in  Italy,  and  who  never  failed  to  commemorate,  in 
the  most  approved  fashion,  all  of  the  national  holidays  of 
his  native  land.  The  scenery  on  both  sides  of  the  historic 
lake  was  delightful;  the  thick  foliage  of  the  trees  appeared 
to  expand  its  wings  upon  the  perfumed  Italian  air,  and  the 
lovely  tints  were  bestowed  by  a  bounteous  Providence ;  the 
waters  were  a  deep  rich  blue,  and  the  sky  was  covered 
with  clouds  of  purest  whiteness,  that  appeared  like  large 
swans  that  had  fallen  asleep,  and  in  their  dreams  were 
floating  above  us.  The  Stars  and  Stripes  were  floating 
over  the  waters,  and  under  a  flowering  mulberry-tree  the 
dinner  was  eaten,  the  speeches  were  made,  and  the  toasts 
drank. 

The  memories  of  the  day  filled  the  heart  with  joy 
and  thanksgiving.  I  thought  of  the  friends  far  away, 
of  the  living  and  the  dead.  The  bloom  of  youth  has 
passed  away  since  first  I  celebrated  this  glorious  day ;  but 
let  me  indulge  the  hope  that  even  though  many  misfor- 
tunes may  come  to  the  land  I  love,  I  have  still  a  legacy 
to  leave,  rich  in  its  hope,  sacred  in  its  duties,  and  grand 
in  its  Constitution — love  for  the  land  of  Washington  and 
Lincoln. 

THE  KING  OF  ITALY. 

THE  first  time  I  saw  the  King  of  Italy  was  when  visit- 
ing Monza,  one  of  his  summer  resorts,  in  company  with 


CONSULAR  LIFE.  169 

my  daughter.  It  was  at  the  time  of  his  visit  there;  for 
he  usually  spends  the  most  of  his  summers  in  this  his- 
toric and  charming  spot.  At  the  palace  gate  I  saw  a 
strikingly  handsome  man  on  horseback.  I  asked  if  the 
palace  was  open  to  visitors  that  day,  and  if  so,  could  we 
enter?  I  thought,  perhaps,  I  was  addressing  one  of  the 
king's  officers,  dressed  in  citizen's  clothes.  He  responded, 
"Certainly;  everything  is  free,  perfectly  free."  It  began 
to  dawn  upon  my  mind  that  he  bore  a  resemblance  to 
Humbert,  and  that,  after  all,  this  might  be  the  king.  And, 
sure  enough,  it  was  the  Italian  sovereign  upon  whom  I 
was  gazing  with  my  republican  eyes.  I  ventured  to  ask 
if  His  Majesty  was  there  and  could  be  seen.  The  words 
came  calmly  from  his  lips,  "O  yes;  I  am  the  king."  It 
seemed  impossible.  There 'were  no  immense  crowds,  no 
Hveried  servants,  no  soldiers  with  their  glittering  sabers. 
I  i  Md  him  we  were  from  America,  where  Italy  had  hosts 
of  aa^irers,  and  where  there  were  many  of  his  subjects, 
now  American  citizens,  and  that  they  were  industrious, 
frugal,  and  in  a  few  years  acquired  a  competency.  "O 
yes;  America  is  a  grand  country;  you  are  a  great  people, 
that  have  shown  yourselves  worthy  of  political  rights. 
You  are  intelligent,  patriotic,  and  moral.  You  have 
thrown  the  gates  wide  open,  and  the  world  beholds  your 
Republic  as  a  self-governed  Nation  by  a  Congress  which 
is  free,  full,  and  fair  representatives  of  the  people's 
wishes."  Reference  was  made  to  Lincoln,  and  the  mov- 
ing interest  taken  by  the  Italians  in  his  assassination. 
Cavour's  dying  words  were  remembered.  When  the  re- 
port reached  the  ears  of  the  expiring  statesman,  he  faintly 
gasped  out  these  words,  "O,  these  Americans;  they  were 
my  ideals, ,and  now  they  have  murdered  their  benefactor!" 


1 70  UNDER   THREE   FLAGS. 

"Yes,"  said  the  king,  "grande  uomo,  grande  uomo" — a 
great  man,  a  great  man — "such  as  no  other  country  in 
the  world  can  show."  The  king,  again  referring  to  the 
United  States,  called  it  "the  land  of  exhaustless  wealth 
and  prosperity,  and  that  such  a  land,  possessing  the  im- 
mortal names  of  Washington  and  Lincoln  and  Grant,  had 
the  purest  and  grandest  destiny  ever  vouchsafed  to  man- 
kind." 

The  personal  appearance  of  Humbert  is  very  attract- 
ive. He  was  in  his  fiftieth  year  when  I  met  him.  His 
tower-like  forehead  is  furrowed  with  many  cares  and 
anxieties,  making  him  look  much  older  than  he  really 
is.  His  step,  however,  is  elastic,  and  his  voice  sounds  clear 
and  round  as  a  bell.  He  is  not  tall,  but  of  medium  height, 
with  a  broad  chest  and  a  robust,  healthy  frame.  He  pos- 
sesses the  eye  of  a  hawk,  and  every  lineament  of  his  coun- 
tenance shows  calm  determination.  There  is  one  of  his 
eyes  which  has  a  peculiar  eccentricity.  It  never  moves, 
but  seems  immovably  fixed.  It  was  caused  by  the  fright 
which  Passanante  gave  him  when  he  attempted  his  assassi- 
nation. He  is  a  splendid  horseman,  and  as  a  rider  has  no 
equal.  He  keeps  three  hundred  horses  in  his  stables  at 
Rome.  He  is  a  soldier,  having  received  his  first  baptism 
of  blood  in  the  Crimean  War.  Many  anecdotes  are  told 
of  him  by  the  Italians.  It  is  said  that  he  was  traveling 
somewhere  in  Italy,  where  he  was  unknown  as  he  sup- 
posed. He  bought  some  oranges  from  a  peddler,  who 
charged  him  an  enormous  price.  "Why,"  said  Hum- 
bert, "oranges  must  be  scarce  in  this  part  of  Italy." 
"No,"  said  the  peddler,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
"but  kings  are  scarce,  your  Majesty." 

The  Italians  tell  with  pride  of  the  liberality  of  their 


AN  OFFICER  OF  THE  ITALIAN  SHARPSHOOTERS. 


THE  KING   OF  ITALY.  1 71 

king  in  sending  five  thousand  francs  to  the  Waldenses 
when  they  commemorated  their  three-hundredth  anniver- 
sary. This  was  a  brave  act,  when  it  is  remembered  that 
the  House  of  Savoy  have  reddened  the  valleys  with  their 
blood. 

His  welcome  to  the  Evangelical  Alliance  showed  that 
his  religious  belief  knew  no  shore.  When  the  queen  tried 
to  dissuade  him  from  going  to  the  cholera-stricken  city 
of  Naples,  where  hundreds  died  of  the  scourge,  he  an- 
swered, "My  life  is  my  people's ;  my  place  is  by  their  side, 
especially  in  times  of  danger."  Again  he  testified  his  de- 
votion to  democracy  when  he  proudly  declared,  in  a  speech 
of  great  power :  "As  long  as  my  country  can  be  served  by 
my  remaining  its  king,  I  remain  on  the  throne;  but  the 
moment  when  it  will  be  better  without  me,  I  retire  to 
private  life."  These  are  grand  words  and  grandly  spoken ; 
but  it  is  nobler  to  he  chief  of  a  Republic,  elected  by  the 
ballots  of  a  free  people.  Purple  and  tiara  fade  in  the  lus- 
ter of  that  simple  dignity.  The  man  who  wears  it  need 
not  envy  czar  nor  king.  He  has  a  nobler  mission  than 
any  ruler  of  mankind  on  earth.  It  is  true  that  he  does 
not  sit  in  a  chair  of  gold  and  crimson  cloth ;  but  he  is  en- 
throned in  the  hearts  of  millions. 

I  saw  the  Queen  of  Italy  some  fifteen  years  ago,  as 
she  rode  amid  the  thrilling  acclamations  of  enthusiastic 
thousands  along  the  banks  of  that  glorious  river  where 
the  noble  Brutus  struck  Csesar  down.  I  thought,  then, 
that  she  was  the  most  beautiful  sovereign  in  Europe.  She 
is  fairly  tall,  her  profile  well  proportioned,  her  hair  a 
chestnut  brown,  and  her  eyes  a  resplendent  blue.  She  is 
not  only  the  most  beautiful  Queen,  but  she  is  the  best  edu- 
cated. She  converses  in  all  the  modern  languages ;  is  well 


172  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

read  in  Shakespeare,  in  Ruskin,  and  in  Schiller.  But  her 
loving  devotion  to  the  King  is  the  brightest  jewel  in  her 
crown.  She  thinks  more  of  that  symbol  ring,  by  which 
her  royal  husband  endowed  her  with  his  love  and  made 
her  sacred,  than  all  her  royal  dignities. 


Chapter  X. 

DOMESTIC  SORROWS— A  PERSONAL  CHAPTER. 

ALTHOUGH  death  had,  at  times,  hovered  near  me  and 
/i.  mine,  yet  for  more  than  thirty  years  it  had  spared 
us.  The  last  one  dear  to  me  to  pass  away  into  her  eternal 
rest  had  been  my  mother,  in  my  young  boyhood.  But  I 
had  not  been  a  month  in  my  new  position  in  the  Italian 
consulate,  whither  I  went  first  to  pave  the  way  for  other 
members  of  my  family  to  join  me,  when  the  news  was 
flashed  over  that  my  youngest  born  was  dead.  Like  a 
flash  of  lightning  from  a  clear  sky  the  blow  struck  -and 
felled  me  to  the  earth. 

It  would  best  comport  with  the  wishes  of  my  dear 
Carrie  to  let  her  passage  to  the  tomb  be  mourned  by  silent 
tears  and  regrets.  I  had  seen  her  happy  school-days  ex- 
pand into  the  noble  fullness  of  a  graceful  young  woman — 
quick,  genial,  and  accomplished  by  intercourse  with  the 
good  and  pure,  looked  upon  by  all  who  knew  her  with 
admiration.  Her  conversation  charmed  the  intellect  by 
its  freshness  and  wisdom.  What  a  pity  that  a  nature  so 
rich,  and  which,  like  some  rare  perfume,  exhaled  itself 
with  such  lavish  generosity,  should  exhaust  itself  so  soon ! 
Even  now,  years  after  she  has  left  us,  my  lips  tremble  as 
I  speak  her  name,  and  my  heart  sinks  within  me  as  I 
weave  this  garland  for  her  memory.  When  mature  age 
wraps  around  itself  the  mantle  of  mortality,  we  look  with 
the  same  sensation  as  we  behold  a  sunset  succeeding  the 
hours  of  closing  day ;  the  grain  is  fully  ripe,  and  we  won- 
der not  that  reapers  begin  their  task.  But  when  death 

173 


174  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

snaps  the  golden  thread  of  life's  young  morning,  we  bow 
our  heads,  and  our  souls  are  torn  with  anguish.  Bright 
was  the  dawn  of  my  dear  girl's  life,  and  brilliant  the  open- 
ing promise;  but  it  may  be  just  as  well.  The  Power  that 
clothed  it  with  celestial  light  decreed  that  it  should  have 
its  noonday  in  the  skies.  Better  that  the  clouds  of  evening 
should  not  succeed  so  beautiful  a  morning. 

The  summer  bloom  is  coming,  but  the  flowers  will 
not  bud  and  blossom  for  her.  The  golden  fields  of  au- 
tumn will  come  too,  but  the  golden  fruit  will  not  ripen 
for  her.  The  dews  of  spring  will  come  and  go,  but  she 
never  again  will  make  joy  and  gladness  in  our  home. 
Though  young  in  years,  she  had  forged  her  way  to  the 
foremost  ranks  in  her  profession,  and  was  regarded  with 
the  highest  esteem  by  those  with  whom  her  work  brought 
her  in  contact,  and  those  who  read  her  brilliant  letters. 
The  President,  senators,  and  distinguished  journalists 
sent  sincerest  condolences,  and  Wallace  Bruce,  the  poet, 
wrote,  "I  read  it  with  dimmed  eyes."  Sympathy  is  sweet 
to  those  who  mourn;  but  only  One  can  bring  peace  to 
the  wounded  heart.  We,  too,  can  sing  the  noble  dirge  of 
Marmion : 

"  Now  is  the  lovely  column  broke, 
The  beacon's  light  is  quenched  in  smoke ; 
The  trumpet's  silver  sound  is  still, 
The  warder  silent  on  the  hill." 

My  second  daughter  joned  me  in  Italy,  and  we  trav- 
eled for  a  few  months,  and  sought  by  constant  motion  to 
stifle  the  pain  that  was  gnawing  at  our  hearts.  But  each 
new  scene,  each  beautiful  object,  reminded  us  the  more 
of  our  sorrow;  for  we  thought  continually  how  Carrie 
would  have  admired  it  all — how  she  would  have  loved  to 
wander  through  the  art  galleries,  to  peer  into  the  old 


A   PERSONAL    CHAPTER.  175 

books  in  the  libraries,  to  sail  about  upon  the  beautiful 
waters,  to  see  all  the  quaint  and  curious  things  we  were 
seeing!  We  returned  to  America  in  the  fall  of  1890,  and 
a  few  weeks  later  I  again  departed  for  Italy,  accompanied 
by  my  wife  and  oldest  daughter.  But  death,  which  had 
spared  us  so  long,  again,  ere  another  year  had  passed, 
paused  at  our  hearthstone  long  enough  to  waft  away, 
with  his  cruel  breath,  another  one  from  out  the  circle. 
When  first  she  came  to  dwell  at  my  fireside,  she  was  in 
the  first  flush  of  her  youthful  beauty.  I  had  seen  her  ex- 
pand and  grow  from  timid  bud  to  the  blooming  flower. 
I  had  seen  her  when  the  first  joy  of  motherhood  glori- 
fied her  countenance.  P'or  nearly  forty  years  we  had 
walked  together,  and  when  she  left  me  all  seemed  blank 
and  the  world  a  void.  One  brief  month  of  illness  and 
pain,  and  then  she  joined  our  youngest  born  in  the  skies. 
Almost  her  last  words  were:  "I  see  Carrie!  I  will  soon 
be  with  her." 

It  was  during  this  time  of  trouble  that  we  learned  to 
know  the  value  of  true,  disinterested  friendship.  Mrs. 
Dario  Papa,  an  American  girl  who  had  married  an  Italian 
editor,  with  unselfish  devotion  and  the  tenderest  affection, 
was  with  us  during  all  the  sad  hours,  giving  material  aid 
and  cheerful  encouragement  to  the  well  and  tenderest 
sympathy  to  the  sick. 

The  funeral  services  in  Milan  were  conducted  with 
the  utmost  simplicity.  The  Americans  visiting  the  city 
were  present.  The  singing  was  led  by  a  Presbyterian 
gentleman  from  Ohio,  and  the  hymns  were  strikingly 
appropriate — "Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee,"  "Rock  of 
Ages,"  and  "God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again,"  having 
been  favorites  of  my  wife.  The  sermon  was  delivered  by 
Professor  Braccioforti,  author  of  the  standard  Italian  die- 


176  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

tionary,  from  the  text,  "In  my  Father's  house  are  many 
mansions."  The  discourse  was  a  picture  of  the  blessed- 
ness of  the  saints,  and  the  language  was  beautiful.  The 
sermon  was  comforting  and  inspiring. 

After  repeated  efforts,  permission  was  granted  by  the 
Italian  Government,  the  German,  the  Swiss,  and  the  Bel- 
gian, to  take  the  beloved  dead  through  their  territories. 
We  were  met  in  New  York  by  two  sons,  and  the  melan- 
choly journey  was  resumed. 

Dr.  Dimmick  delivered  a  touching  and  appropriate 
address  in  Cleveland.  He  was  assisted  by  an  old  clergy- 
man, Rev.  Oliver  Burgess,  who  had  kind  words  to  say, 
and  who  referred  to  a  similar  service  in  the  same  house 
for  the  dear  daughter. 

In  one  month  from  the  time  she  had  died  in  Italy  we 
placed  the  mortal  remains  of  my  dear  wife  to  rest  in  Lake- 
view  Cemetery,  by  the  side  of  the  daughter  who  had  pre- 
ceded her  by  only  a  year  and  two  months. 
*  After  a  four  years'  stay  in  Europe  with  my  two  re- 
maining daughters,  I  arrived  in  the  United  States,  Janu- 
ary i,  1894,  and  proceeded  immediately  to  Cleveland.  I 
again  took  up  my  work  in  the  ministry,  and  have  served 
within  the  last  four  years  the  Woodland  Hills  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  and  the  Scovill  Avenue  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  of  this  city,  and  the  Brecksville  Meth- 
odist Episcopal  Church,  which  I  was  obliged  to  give  up 
on  account  of  continued  ill-health. 

My  first  serious  sickness  occurred  in  September,  1897, 
after  returning  from  Nashville,  Tennessee,  where  I  deliv- 
ered one  of  the  Centennial  addresses.  Dr.  Durstine,  a 
kind  and  able  physician  of  the  Old  School,  being  sum- 
moned, helped  me;  but  thinking  I  would  be  benefited  by 
the  electrical  baths  of  a  sanitarium,  and  the  constant  medi- 


DR.  H.  F.   BIG  GAR.  177 

cal  attendance  one  can  receive  there,  he  advised  me  to  go 
to  the  sanitarium  at  Dansville,  N.  Y.  I  was  there  only 
one  week,  when  the  senior  physician,  Dr.  Jackson,  kindly 
but  frankly  told  me  my  heart  was  seriously  affected,  and 
that  I  should  return  home  as  soon  as  possible — the  treat- 
ment of  the  sanitarium  would  not  benefit  my  case  any. 
Dr.  Durstine  had  been  able  to  do  more  for  me  at  home, 
as  had  also  Dr.  Sawyer,  a  skillful  and  successful  phy- 
sician. I  returned  home  immediately,  accompanied  by 
my  daughter,  who  had  come  in  answer  to  a  telegram. 
The  family  in  the  meantime  had  resolved  to  try  the  New 
School,  and  Dr.  H.  F.  Biggar,  being  one  of  the  most  emi- 
nent in  his  profession  in  the  city,  was  asked  to  visit  me. 
He  made  an  examination,  but  only  said,  "The  heart  is 
weak,  but  it  can  be  strengthened." 

In  a  few  weeks  I  was  out  on  the  streets ;  but  an  indis- 
creet compliance  with  lecture  committees  in  the  East 
threw  me  back  into  a  worse  condition,  and  it  was  at  this 
point  in  my  illness  that  Dr.  Biggar  advised  me  to  try  the 
waters  of  Cambridge  Springs,  Pennsylvania.  I  followed 
this  counsel,  and  spent  several  weeks  there  at  the  River- 
side Hotel.  I  found  it  a  delightful  place,  and  the  mineral 
waters  were  very  healthful  and  beneficial.  It  was  here 
that  I  first  met  the  genial  Colonel  William  Edwards,  of 
Cleveland,  a  great  sportsman,  and  a  patriotic  and  kind- 
hearted  gentleman.  He  and  his  amiable  wife  were  the 
charm  of  all  the  social  gatherings  there.  His  subsequent 
death  was  a  great  loss  to  this  community,  of  which  he  was 
an  honored  citizen. 

DR.  H.  F.  BIGGAR. 

I  like  not  the  indifference  that  fails  to  recognize  and 
acknowledge  the  benefits  received  from  the  unceasing  de- 

12 


1 78  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

votion  and  accomplished  skill  of  a  faithful  and  conscien- 
tious physician.  I  shall  always  remember  with  delight  the 
good  offices  of  Dr.  Biggar.  I  have  come  to  think  of  him 
as  the  modern  prototype  of  the  beloved  Physician  de- 
scribed by  the  evangelist.  Many  have  been  the  delightful 
hours  of  intellectual  companionship  passed  in  his  society, 
when  the  storehouses  of<art  and  literature,  and  the  trav- 
eled experiences  of  a  cultured  observer,  have  been  unre- 
servedly opened  up.  In  such  companionship  the  recol- 
lections of  a  sick-room  cease  to  be  a  chronicle  of  pain  and 
distress.  They  become  a  bright  leaf  in  the  dark  pages  of 
sorrow. 

Dr.  Biggar  is  of  Scottish  origin,  his  ancestors  having 
been  inhabitants  of  Biggar,  a  quaint  old  Scotch  town. 
Nature  has  been  no  niggard  to  him.  He  possesses  a 
stalwart  frame,  clear  broad  temples,  a  massive  head,  and 
an  athletic  figure.  His  manners  are  benevolent,  reserved, 
and  dignified.  As  a  surgeon  he  brings  all  the  industry 
and  all  the  resources  of  a  well-trained  and  vigorous  intel- 
lect to  the  discharge  of  his  duties.  In  his  operations  he  is 
eminently  successful.  While  stern  as  a  bit  of  Mount  Sinai 
in  the  actual  treatment,  he  is  kind  as  a  woman  in  his  meth- 
ods. The  old  lines  must  be  familiar  to  him : 

"  Use  men  kindly,  they  rebel ; 

But  be  rough  as  nutmeg-grater, 
And  the  rogues  obey  you  well." 

Although  born  under  the  Queen  of  England's 
flag,  he  is  an  American  in  its  broadest  and  grandest 
signification.  It.  is  the  beauty  of  republican  character, 
as  of  republican  institutions,  to  be  harmonious,  well- 
balanced,  simple,  just.  He  has  traveled  extensively, 
and  has  mingled  with  the  most  eminent  of  his  profes- 
sion and  of  all  professions.  The  luxury  of  the  great 


A   PERSONAL   CHAPTER.  179 

European  capitals  seems  to  have  only  confirmed  the  re- 
publican simplicity  of  his  habits  and  manners.  They  are 
severe,  almost  to  asceticism.  Either  from  principle  or  the 
natural  inclination  of  his  character,  he  is  a  total  abstainer. 
The  doctor  is  a  pleasant  speaker.  Recently  I  read  one 
of  his  addresses  before  a  Medical  Association.  It  was  a 
tender  and  beautiful  speech,  a  poetic  prose  gem.  Signal 
must  be  his  abilities  to  have  gathered  around  him  such  a 
constellation  of  honors  in  his  profession.  A  really  great 
man,  without  pomposity,-  upright  and  just.  I  remem- 
ber to  have  seen,  in  a  conspicuous  place  in  Florence, 
an  elevated  column  surmounted  by  a  figure  of  Justice 
with  the  scales.  I  also  remember  a  citizen  passing  by  it, 
and,  seeing  a  stranger  gazing  at  it,  remarked  to  him  that 
"Justice  was  so  high  in  Florence  that  no  man  could  reach 
it."  Dr.  Biggar  is  not  only  just,  but  he  is  generous,  and 
the  poor  man  never  appeals  to  him  in  vain.  He 
owes  much  of  his  brilliant  success,  not  only  to  his  knowl- 
edge, but  to  his  sympathies.  Dr.  Alexander  discusses 
the  question  whether  sympathy  and  science  can  have  any- 
thing in  common;  whether  the  advance  of  science  must 
necessarily  be  the  destruction  of  poetry,  and  that  the 
tender  expression  on  the  face  of  medical  science  is  sym- 
pathy. Medical  science  can  point  year  after  year  to  books, 
not  only  bulkier,  but  better;  to  instruments  infinitely 
more  subtle  and  delicate ;  to  operations  which  a  quarter  of 
a  century  ago  would  have  seemed  incredible;  to  hospitals 
improved  beyond  conception ;  to  fruits  such  as  Bacon,  the 
Isaiah  of  science,  never  saw  in  his  most  inspired  mo- 
ments. But  the  ideal  physician  gains  his  accumulated 
stores  of  knowledge  by  the  beauty  and  tenderness  of  sym- 
pathy. The  best  portion  of  that  knowledge  was  never 
gained  by  the  hope  of  golden  fees.  It  was  won  by  sym- 


180  UNDE-R   THREE  FLAGS. 

pathy  with  suffering,  and  the  sympathy  was  created  by  the 
mind  of  Christ. 

To  these  personal  chapters  I  append  others  in  con- 
nection with  the  incidents  of  my  life,  lectures,  and  ad- 
dresses, prominent  personages  whom  I  have  known,  and 
some  leading  events  in  national  history. 

I  have  five  children  living;  one,  dearest  Carrie — 
to  whom  I  have  already  referred — passed  to  a  better 
world  a  few  years  ago — a  most  gifted  girl.  George 
Wesley,  my  oldest  son,  has  been  in  the  railway  mail 
service  for  twenty  years,  and  is  now  the  superintendent 
of  the  Ninth  Division  of  the  Railway  Mail  Service, 
extending  from  New  York  to  Chicago.  He  has  retained 
this  position  through  all  changes  of  administration.  Sam- 
uel Arthur,  my  second  son,  has  lived  in  Montana  for  years, 
and  has  been  by  turns  a  mine-owner  and  rancher.  He  is 
now  in  the  Klondike.  Charles  Meagher,  my  third  son,  is 
a  newspaper  man.  During  the  recent  Spanish-American 
War  he  represented  leading  New  York,  Chicago,  and 
Washington  papers,  in  Cuba.  My  daughters,  Lena  Lind- 
say and  Mary  Sifton,  have  been  devoted  to  literary  pur- 
suits. They  have  traveled  extensively,  and  speak  the 
German,  the  French,  and  Italian  languages.  Lena  has 
for  several  years  written  descriptive  letters  for  the  press, 
and  is  now  the  w^riter  of  the  foreign  article  for  a  leading 
Chicago  newspaper,  and  has  in  preparation  a  novel  on 
Italian  life.  Mary  has  principally  been  engaged  in  the 
work  of  translating;  was  one  of  the  original  translators 
of  the  "Jesuit  Relations,"  a  colossal  work,  published  in 
sixty  volumes. 


Chapter  XI. 

TRAVELS  IN  THE   ORIENT— FIRST  IMPRESSIONS 
OF  THE  HOLY  LAND. 

FOR  many  years  I  had  contemplated  a  visit  to  the 
Orient,  and,  in  fulfillment  of  this  design,  I  sailed 
from  Brindisi  in  December,  1893,  for  Cairo.  A  Medi- 
terranean steamer  at  this  season  is  the  rendezvous  of  all 
nationalities — some  traveling  for  pleasure,  and  some  for 
profit;  some  on  wedding  tours,  and  some  in  the  grief  of 
widowhood;  some  bounding  along  upon  the  road  of  life 
in  all  the  freshness  and  hopefulness  of  youth,  and  some 
walking  with  slower  footsteps  toward  the  brink  of  eter- 
nity! The  sedate  Englishman,  the  lively  Italian,  the 
pushing  American,  the  witty  Frenchman, — all  are  rep- 
resented upon  these  steamers.  Lady  Beresford,  wife  of 
the  famous  English-Irish  general  who  bombarded  Alex- 
andria, was  one  of  our  passengers,  a  woman  of  great 
beauty  and  conversational  power.  I  thought  she  was  an 
American,  and  told  her  so.  "No,  sir,  I  am  Irish ;  and  that 
is  the  next  best  thing  to  being  an  American." 

The  captain  gave  his  solemn  word  that  the  Mediter- 
ranean would  be  gentle  and  kind;  but  how  soon  all  our 
pleasant  prospects  were  dispelled!  The  second  day  this 
fascinating,  lovely,  historic  sea  became  very  rude,  smash- 
ing everything  on  the  dining-table.  Out  of  seventy  pas- 
sengers, I  think  only  four  were  able  to  appear  in  the  din- 
ing-room the  second  day.  I  had  had  an  old  notion  that 
I  would  hail  a  sail  upon  the  Mediterranean  with  transports 
of  enthusiasm;  that  I  would  look  with  rapture  on  its  ever- 

181 


1 82  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

lasting  blue  expanse,  and  listen  with  delight  to  its  sub- 
lime music.  I  was  seven  different  times  upon  its  waters, 
and,  like  the  unhappy  husband's  wife,  every  time  it  got 
"worser  and  worser." 

Alexandria  is  hailed  in  the  distance,  and  every  face  is 
brightened  with  joy  and  hope.  The  Egyptian  sky  is  glow- 
ing with  all  the  beautiful  transitions  of  color  which  lie 
between  pink  and  blue.  The  level  shores  of  the  city  are 
soon  reached,  and  a  thousand  memories  of  Alexandria's 
great  past  pass  in  review. 

The  city  of  to-day  is  insignificant,  and  there  is  little 
in  it  to  remind  one  of  the  time,  two  thousand  years  ago, 
when  it  possessed  the  most  magnificent  library  in  the 
world;  that  in  the  fifth  century  it  was  the  center  of  liter- 
ature, of  science,  of  theological  lore,  and  the  home  of  cul- 
tivated people,  where  Greek  thought,  Eastern  mysticism, 
and  Western  scholarship  met  and  debated  the  same  eter- 
nal questions  which  are  now  vexing  the  Churches.  It 
was  here  that  Aristotle,  Euripides,  Euclid,  and  other  fa- 
mous men  lived;  where  Cleopatra  died  of  love  for  An- 
tony. It  was  also  the  city  of  the  beautiful  pagan,  Hypatia, 
who  dedicated  her  lively  fancy,  her  powerful  brain,  and 
her  warm  heart  to  astronomy,  to  mathematics,  and  to  the 
better  improvement  of  the  poor.  It  was  here,  also,  that 
the  Scriptures  were  translated  into  the  Greek  tongue. 

From  Alexandria  to  Cairo  is  only  three  hours'  ride  by 
rail.  The  country  is  one  of  the  most  fertile  in  Egypt. 
The  houses  are  shabby,  and  the  people  look  poverty- 
stricken.  Every  little  town  and  hamlet  pours  forth  its 
tribute  of  camels  and  donkeys  loaded  with  cotton.  We 
pass  through  the  cities  of  Tanta  and  Benha,  the  former 
a  place  of  considerable  importance,  with  a  palace  for  the 
khedive  and  a  fine  mosque,  where  three  festivals  are  cele- 


TRAVELS  IN  7 HE   ORIENT.  183 

brated  annually.  Everywhere  are  veiled  women,  and  it  is 
here  that  is  seen  the  first  evidence  of  woman's  awful  degra- 
dation. What  can  be  expected  from  a  system  that 
teaches,  as  Mohammed  does  in  the  Koran,  "Woman  was 
made  out  of  the  crooked  rib  of  Adam,  which  would  break 
if  you  tried  to  bend  it;  and  if  left  alone,  it  would  always 
remain  crooked."  And  again  he  says,  "I  stood  at  the 
gate  of  paradise.  Most  of  the  inhabitants  were  the  poor. 
And  I  stood  at  the  gate  of  hell,  and  lo !  most  of  its  inhab- 
itants were  women!"  Everywhere,  in  Mohammedan 
lands,  the  eye  is  pained  by  the  degraded  state  of  woman. 
'She  is  only  valued  by  the  husband  for  her  sex.  At  Con- 
stantinople, as  I  looked  at  the  sultan  going  to  the  mosque 
alone  in  his  carriage,  I  shocked  a  devout  Mussulman  by 
.asking  him,  "Where  is  the  sultan's  wife,  and  why  does  she 
not  accompany  him  to  his  devotions?"  A  look  of  indigna- 
tion was  my  answer,  and  I  thought  I  could  hear  the  words, 
"Christian  dog !" 

Cairo  is  a  city  at  once  Oriental  and  modern.  It  is 
large,  covering  almost  four  square  miles,  and  the  houses 
in  the  new  quarters  are  elegant  and  expensive.  The 
common  observation  is  frequently  quoted : 

"He  who  hath  not  seen  Cairo, 
Hath  not  seen  the  world." 

It  is  full  of  picturesque  sights,  the  beauty  and  variety  of 
which  must  be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  Here  the  majestic 
Nile,  with  its  wealth  of  profane  and  Biblical  associations, 
stretches  in  grandeur  for  hundreds  of  miles.  The  air  is 
so  fresh — even  in  December — so  sweet,  so  divinely  agree- 
able, as  to  produce  an  indescribable  effect  upon  the  feel- 
ings. The  most  interesting  view  is  from  the  citadel;  a 
magnificent  panorama  is  unfolded.  To  the  east  we  see 


1 84  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Heliopolis,  where  Joseph  obtained  his  wife,  and  Moses 
was  trained,  and  Abraham  sojourned,  and  near  it  the 
tombs  of  the  Mamelukes ;  to  the  south,  the  ancient  quar- 
ries of  Mokatten ;  and  in  the  north,  the  green  fields  of 
the  Delta. 

From  Cairo  to  the  Pyramids  is  nine  miles,  through 
the  richest  and  most  fertile  soil  of  Egypt.  We  pass  over 
the  rich  plain  of  Goshen,  the  country  which  Joseph  gave 
to  his  father.  Everywhere  are  to  be  seen  the  graces  and 
grandeurs  of  nature — thrilling  memories  of  Cleopatra's 
going  forth  in  all  her  splendor  to  her  unhappy  marriage ; 
of  Cambyses,  the  Persian  tyrant,  who  slew  the  last  of  the 
Pharaohs ;  of  Alexander  the  Great,  rescuing  the  land  from 
the  Persians;  of  Roman  legions,  Carthaginian  phalanxes. 
It  was  upon  these  sacred  plains  that  the  triumphant  song 
was  sung:  "I  will  sing  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  hath  tri- 
umphed gloriously;  the  horse  and  the  rider  hath  he 
thrown  into  the  sea." 

It  was  this  sublime  victory  that  inspired  the  muse  of 
Moore  to  write  his  splendid  poem  : 

"  Sound  the  loud  timbrel  o'er  Egypt's  dark  sea — 
Jehovah  has  triumphed,  his  people  are  free ! 
Sing,  for  the  pride  of  the  tyrant  is  broken  ; 

His  chariots,  his  horsemen,  all  splendid  and  brave. 

How  vain  was  their  boast !   The  Lord  hath  but  spoken, 

And  chariots  arid  horsemen  are  sunk  in  the  wave." 

Yonder,  in  the  purple  distance,  stands,  in  unique  gran- 
deur, the  great  Pyramid,  unchangeable  in  a  world  of 
change.  It  was  built  by  Cheops,  the  third  king  of  the 
fourth  dynasty.  Higher  than  St.  Peter's,  grander  than 
the  Parthenon,  the  king  employed  one  hundred  thousand 
men  in  making  the  road  from  the  quarries,  and  four  hun- 
dred thousand  men  twenty  years  in  building  it.  It  calls 


'NVWCX&.  1VJ.NHIHO  NV 


TRAVELS  IN   THE    ORIENT.  185 

up  emotions  of  wonder  and  awe.  All  other  pyramids  are 
dwarfed  in  its  colossal  presence.  I  saw  all  of  them  clearly 
-and  distinctly;  no  mist  or  cloud  overwreathed  their  lofty 
summits,  bathed  in  sunshine  and  suffused  with  light.  My 
expectations  were  more  than  realized.  It  was  not  so 
much  the  lofty  height  nor  the  enormous  sides  of  the  great 
Pyramid,  as  the  exquisite  symmetry  which  fascinated  and 
.absorbed  my  mind  and  heart.  Now  we  see  the  ancient 
gray  of  the  rock,  and  then  spots  flecked  with  green.  All 
visitors  are  expected  to  climb  up  to  the  top  or  creep  into 
the  interior.  I  looked  at  the  Pyramid  with  strange  feel- 
ings of  uncertainty ;  and  the  Pyramid  looked  sympathetic- 
ally at  me,  and  I  reached  the  conclusion  that  both  of  us 
were  too  old  for  the  exercise.  The  interior,  however,  is 
equally  hazardous.  I  tried  to  make  the  exploration.  The 
first  passage  was  only  three  feet  high,  and  after  several 
efforts  at  crawling  and  dodging,  I  succeeded  in  seeing 
the  chambers  of  the  king  and  queen — rooms  five  thou- 
sand years  old.  The  darkest  night  I  ever  saw  was  day- 
light in  comparison  to  the  concentrated  night  of  this 
mighty  tomb  of  the  dead. 

The  sheik,  or  chief  of  the  tribe,  for  a  fee,  furnishes 
three  guides.  Their  attentions  are  graduated  according 
to  the  expectation  of  their  fees.  They  always  speak  hope- 
fully, repeating  the  words  frequently,  "Big  man — satis- 
fied— big  fee."  "You  are  quite  satisfied — quite  well — 
then  all  right."  Afterwards  they  sing  a  rough  chorus  like 
this,  "Aby  naby — big  man.  Aby  naby — big  pay."  I  was 
glad  to  bid  an  eternal  farewell  to  these  guides  and  to  the 
royal  chambers,  and  greet  once  more  the  light. 

Cairo  has  all  the  liveliness  of  Paris,  all  the  beauty  of 
Cleveland,  and  all  the  Orientalism  of  the  East.  The  air  is 
soft  and  balmy ;  there  is  no  such  thing  as  frost.  Then  the 


1 86  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

Hotel  Shepard,  where  every  evening  at  dinner  one  sees 
the  reunion  of  all  nations,  from  New  York  to  Jerusalem ; 
of  all  conditions,  dukes,  generals,  statesmen ;  British  offi- 
cers going  to  and  returning  from  India.  Here  are  the 
sedate  English,  the  vivacious  French,  the  witty  Italians,, 
the  thoughtful  Germans,  the  solemn  and  stately  Turks, 
the  keen  Armenians,  the  accomplished  Greeks,  and  the 
earnest  Americans.  There  are  no  places  of  honor  at  the 
table.  All  are  equal. 

The  poet  Lamartine,  writing  of  the  Holy  Land  sixty 
years  ago,  speaks  of  buying  an  arsenal  of  pistols,  sabers, 
and  other  weapons  to  defend  himself  against  the  Greek 
pirates  that  infested  the  Archipelago  Sea.  In  these  peace- 
ful days  it  seems  hard  to  understand  that  such  should  be 
the  condition  then;  for  in  visiting  Palestine  now  there 
is  no  risk. 

Lord  Bacon  has  laid  it  down  as  one  of  his  maxims 
that  the  best  thing  for  persons  contemplating  an  exten- 
sive journey  to  new  or  old  countries  is,  "first,  to  read ;  and 
then  to  travel,  to  satisfy  yourself  of  the  truth  of  what  you 
have  read."  With  the  most  profound  respect  for  Bacon, 
I  believe  he  is  mistaken,  and  that  the  very  opposite  course 
is  the  wisest,  most  beneficial.  And  hence,  in  my  recent 
trip  through  Egypt,  Palestine,  Greece,  and  Turkey,  I 
read  no  books,  took  no  guides,  but  trusted  myself  solely 
to  first-class  guides  and  dragomans,  who  had  an  estab- 
lished reputation  for  their  general  knowledge  and  expe- 
rience in  their  profession.  The  Orient  is  full  of  drago- 
mans. It  is  said  that  in  England  when  a  man  fails  in 
everything  else,  he  becomes  a  wine  merchant;  in  the 
United  States,  an  insurance  agent ;  in  Egypt,  he  becomes 
a  dragoman. 

Out  of  the  seventy  millions  of  our  American  popula- 


TRAVELS  IN  THE    ORIENT.  187 

tion,  only  about  five  thousand  have  ever  visited  Pales- 
time;  of  all  those  who  go  to  Europe,  less  than  five  per 
cent  get  as  far  afway  as  Rome,  less  than  two  per  cent  to 
Athens,  and  less  than  one-fourth  of  one  per  cent  to  Judea. 
I  do  not  know  a  more  striking  example  of  the  power  of 
moral  association  to  elevate  and  perpetuate  the  fame  and 
interest  of  a  country,  naturally  insignificant,  than  that  of 
Palestine.  How  little  interest  is  awakened  in  the  souls  of 
moralists,  scholars,  by  the  name  of  Russia,  whose  do- 
mains are  boundless!  politicians  may  speculate  about 
its  future  relations  and  predict  its  renown;  but  it  has  no 
stirring  memories,  nothing  in  intellectual  achievement, 
nothing  in  moral  grandeur.  How  different  is  Palestine,  a 
country  scarcely  noticed  in  the  colossal  empire  of  Russia, 
and  yet  the  very  name  fires  the  hearts  of  Christendom ! 

I  was  accompanied  thither  by  an  English  clergyman, 
a  rare  and  cultivated  gentleman  of  very  High  Church  per- 
suasion. I  was  sorely  perplexed  by  his  efforts  to  carry 
out  the  customs  of  his  country;  he  must  spend  an  hour 
at  meals,  so  much  time  in  arranging  his  toilet;  in  every 
church  the  same  crossings,  bowings,  and  genuflexions. 

For  the  sight  of  Jerusalem  and  its  holy  places,  great 
multitudes  make  sacrifices,  endure  hardships,  and  spend 
the  hard  earnings  of  years.  As  soon  as  they  come  to 
understand  the  blessed  mysteries  of  their  religion,  they 
long  for  a  pilgrimage,  and  their  hearts  burn  with  enthusi- 
asm to  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  patriarchs;  to  see  with 
their  own  eyes  the  spots  memorable,  in  Bible  history,  by 
the  words  and  deeds  of  the  prophets  of  the  Old  and  the 
apostles  of  the  New  Testament. 

There  are  others,  again,  who  visit  Palestine  because 
of  its  scenery.  There  is  a  nobility  in  its  mountains,  a 
loveliness  in  its  vallevs,  a  divine  beautv  in  its  lakes,  a 


1 88  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

fragrance  in  its  flowers,  a  grandeur  in  its  rivers,  and  an 
azure  in  its  skies  which  even  surpass  those  which  bend 
over  the  faded  splendors  of  Italy.  And  the  plain  of 
Sharon,  fifteen  miles  long,  bounded  by  the  blue  waters 
of  the  Mediterranean  on  one  side,  and  by  the  hill  country 
of  Judea  on  the  other !  And  who  can  describe  the  emo- 
tions of  the  devout  Christian  as  he  looks  upon  the  rose 
of  Sharon? 

There  are  many  devout  people  who  visit  the  Holy 
Land  because  of  its  sacred  associations.  There  is  not  a 
breeze  that  blows  which  does  not  waft  some  words  of 
Christ;  there  is  not  a  flower  which  blooms  but  seems  to 
be  nurtured  with  his  blood;  and  every  spot  is  hallowed 
with  his  presence.  As  the  morning  star  appears  in  the 
heavens,  the  Christian  remembers  that  over  Bethlehem 
was  fulfilled  the  prophecy,  "There  shall  come  a  star  out 
of  Judah."  If  he  beholds  the  waters  of  a  lake,  in  his  im- 
agination he  sees  the  divine  form  of  his  Master  walking 
upon  it.  A  clergyman  of  the  English  Church  recently 
died  in  Milan;  before  leaving  home  to  visit  Palestine, 
he  said,  "I  want  to  see  Jerusalem  below,  before  I  see  Jeru- 
salem above." 

The  approach  to  Jerusalem  produces  emotions  of  the 
profoundest  reverence  by  its  very  antiquity.  Modern 
Jerusalem  possesses  but  little  of  the  ancient  city,  the 
houses  being  new  and  modern  in  style.  Still,  the  hoary 
hills  are  there,  and  the  natural  landscapes.  The  waters 
of  the  Jordan,  over  whose  sacred  waves  a  Divine  Voice 
was  heard,  still  flow  calmly  on;  the  cedars  of  Lebanon 
yet  wave  their  branches  to  and  fro ;  the  heights  of  Tabor 
are  still  crested  with  beauty;  the  fountains,  the  brooks, 
the  olives  and  vines,  are  still  there,  haunted  by  memories 
which  are  dear  to  Christendom.  Bethlehem,  Nazareth, 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   ORIENT.  189 

Gethsemane,  and  Calvary  gladden  the  eye,  recalling  other 
times. 

The  departed  glories  of  Jerusalem  rise  in  one  long 
procession.  What  a  variety  of  history !  At  one  time  its 
inhabitants  were  hunted  and  oppressed  by  persecution; 
at  another  time  they  were  placed  upon  the  top  of  pros- 
perity. In  the  midst  of  all  the  varied  emotions  which  I 
felt,  I  could  not  but  remember  the  prophecy  that  all  their 
magnificence  should  be  destroyed,  and  that  their  beautiful 
house,  where  their  fathers  worshiped,  should  be  deso- 
lated. 

Tasso,  in  his  "Jerusalem  Delivered,"  describes  the 
emotions,  not  only  of  the  Crusaders,  but  of  all  true  Chris- 
tians, as  they  behold,  in  the  distance,  Jerusalem : 

"  With  holy  zeal  their  swelling  hearts  abound, 
And  their  winged  footsteps  scarcely  print  the  ground. 
When  new,  the  sun  ascends  the  eternal  way, 
And  strikes  the  dusty  field  with  warmer  ray. 
Behold  !  Jerusalem  in  prospect  lies  ! 
Behold !  Jerusalem  salutes  their  eyes ! 
At  once  a  thousand  tongues  repeat  the  name, 
All  hail  Jerusalem  with  loud  acclaim  !  " 

"  At  first,  transported  with  the  pleasing  sight, 
Bach  Christian  bosom  glowed  with  full  delight; 
But  deep  contrition  soon  their  joys  opprest, 
And  holy  sorrow  saddened  every  breast. 
Scarce  dare  their  eyes  the  city  walls  survey, 
Where,  clothed  in  flesh,  their  dear  Redeemer  lay ; 
Whose  sacred  earth  did  once  their  L,ord  inclose, 
And  where  triumphant  from  the  grave  he  rose." 

The  Dome  of  the  Rock  is  a  building  with  eight  sides, 
twenty  yards  in  length.  The  outside  is  richly  ornamented 
with  colored  marbles,  and  the  inside  has  also  been  made 
magnificent  with  mosaics.  The  rock,  which  occupies  the 
whole  center  of  the  building,  is  environed  by  a  balustrade 


190  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

of  painted  wood ;  every  one  can  see  it,  and  the  light  which 
streams  through  the  stained-glass  windows  increases  the 
grandeur  of  the  noble  sanctuary.  The  rock,  in  its  native 
simplicity,  makes  a  deeper  impression  than  if  it  were  deco- 
rated with  gold  and  silver  lamps.  It  is  fifty  feet  in  diam- 
eter, and  over  it  is  suspended  a  canopy  of  colored  silks. 
To  this  rock  gorgeous  edifices  owe  their  existence ;  to  the 
Mohammedan  it  is  the  second  sacred  place  on  earth, 
Mecca  being  the  first.  It  rises  ten  feet  above  the  marble 
floor,  and  is  called  the  "stone  of  prophecy."  When  the 
prophets  were  compelled  to  fly  for  their  lives  to  foreign 
lands,  this  rock  tried  to  follow  them ;  but  Gabriel  seized  it. 
The  Mohammedans  have  also  a  tradition  that  it  was  from 
this  stone  that  their  prophet  ascended  to  heaven  on  his 
famous  donkey,  Alborak,  after  that  patient  beast  had  se- 
cured a  place  in  Paradise.  They  say  that  the  print  of  the 
prophet's  feet  are  seen  yet  upon  the  rock,  and  that  it  at- 
tempted to  follow  him,  and  would  have  succeeded  but  for 
the  timely  interference  of  the  archangel  Gabriel. 

The  Jews  have  also  a  tradition  that  it  was  upon  this 
rock  the  ark  rested,  and  consequently  the  holy  symbols. 
Explorers  have  endeavored  to  wrest  more  secrets  from 
the  past  by  raising  this  stone.  The  Mohammedans  are 
opposed  to  it.  The  reason  assigned  is,  that  the  rock 
covered  the  well  of  the  evil  spirit;  and  if  the  bad  spirit 
should  get  out,  disastrous  results  would  follow.  The 
Dome  of  the  Rock  became  the  model  for  the  Churches 
known  as  those  of  the  Order  of  Templars. 

The  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulcher  is  the  most  promi- 
nent sacred  edifice  in  Jerusalem.  The  legend  of  the  Em- 
press Helena's  vision  in  the  fourth  century,  when  she  dis- 
covered the  site  of  the  crucifixion,  is  well  known.  The 
ground  fronting  the  church  is  used  as  a  market-place, 


THE  HOLY  SEPULCHER,  JERUSALEM. 


TRAVELS  IN  THE    ORIENT.  191 

where  Christian  Syrians,  with  their  lower  extremities  in- 
cased in  a  common  garment,  half-pantaloon  and  half-petti- 
coat; Jews,  with  their  heads  shaven,  and  wild-looking 
Bedouins, — all  ply  their  vocation.  One  would  think  that 
to  the  Jews  and  the  Christians  there  was  too  much  solem- 
nity in  the  surroundings  to  check  the  hot  commercial 
transactions  which  pain  the  eye  to  behold.  Near  here 
rose  the  temple  in  its  glory ;  and  if  these  money-changers 
would  only  walk  about  this  church,  mark  well  her  bul- 
warks, consider  her  palaces,  surely  there  would  be  enough 
in  the  storied  walls,  in  structures  that  once  were  effulgent 
with  Deity,  to  remind  these  traffickers  that  other  thoughts 
than  those  of  merchandise  should  occupy  their  minds. 

Bethlehem !  the  house  of  bread.  We  think  of  Naomi, 
and  the  modern  wives  and  mothers  stand  upon  the  hill- 
side in  their  plain  white  clothes.  We  think  of  Ruth,  as 
we  see  the  cornfields,  making  the  heart  of  Boaz  soft  with 
her  tender  and  thrilling  story.  We  think,  as  we  watch  the 
shepherds,  of  David,  herding  his  flocks  and  making  the 
valleys  ring  with  his  songs.  We  travel  over  the  same 
fields  where  the  shepherds  were  watching  their  flocks 
when  they  heard  the  music  of  angels,  saying,  "Glory  to 
God  in  the  highest;"  and  the  wise  men,  as  they  saw  the 
new  and  brilliant  star  in  the  heavens,  the  precursor  of  the 
Messiah's  reign. 

As  Bethlehem  was  the  commencement  of  our  Lord's 
life,  so  Bethany,  a  beautiful  village  nestled  among  the 
hills  behind  Mount  Olivet,  undoubtedly  witnessed  his 
closing  days.  It  was  here  that  Martha  and  Mary  and 
Lazarus  lived.  Recent  explorers  have  discovered  the  spot 
where  the  ascension  took  place.  In  our  continued  jour- 
ney we  pause,  and  take  luncheon  at  the  Inn  of  the  Good 
Samaritan.  This  whole  region  is  adapted  to  be  the  ren- 


192  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

dezvous  of  robbers,  and  close  to  it  is  Cherith,  where  Elijah 
was  fed  by  the  ravens.  We  have  now  a  magnificent  view 
of  the  Jordan  and  the  mountains  of  Moab;  the  Mount 
of  Temptation  is  visited ;  Jericho  is  reached,  but  nothing 
remains  of  its  former  grandeur  but  a  few  stones. 

After  a  good  night's  rest,  next  morning,  bright  and 
early,  I  started  for  the  Jordan,  passing  Gilgal.  The  coun- 
try is  most  delightful,  and  the  scenery  is  beautiful.  The 
Dead  Sea  being  the  farthest  away,  it  is  the  first  visited. 
I  bathed  in  it,  and  marveled  at  the  intense  stillness ;  there 
was  not  a  bird  that  hummed,  not  a  living  thing  about. 
The  waters  were  salty  and  sticky,  having  twenty-four  per 
cent  of  salt  alkali  in  their  composition.  I  walked  over 
places  supposed  to  be  the  sites  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah. 
Contrary  to  my  expectation,  I  found  the  sea  to  be  a  deep 
blue.  The  first  view  of  the  Jordan  is  disappointing,  al- 
though on  coming  nearer  I  saw  that  the  river  was  well 
wooded,  banks  alternating  with  rocks ;  still,  I  think  Naa- 
man's  view  was  correct.  The  water  was  like  pea-soup, 
deliciously  warm  and  soft.  An  Englishman,  who  trav- 
eled with  me  to  the  Jordan,  and  who  suffered  much  from 
the  jolting  over  the  rocky,  stony  way,  said,  "If  our  dear 
Lord  had  known  how  much  I  would  suffer  in  this  trip, 
he  would  have  chosen  another  spot  more  convenient  than 
the  Jordan  in  which  to  be  baptized." 

Among  the  most  delightful  of  the  countries  I  visited 
was  Greece.  The  civilized  world  will  ever  take  an  interest 
in  the  land  of  heroism  and  song,  and  in  the  ancient  gran- 
deur and  glory  of  Athens.  I  was  there  during  the  excite- 
ment of  the  downfall  of  the  Tricoupis  ministry. 

The  Greeks  are  among  the  most  patriotic  people  in 
the  East;  their  schools,  their  seminaries,  and  their  uni- 
versities are  continually  teaching  the  young  the  story  of 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   ORIENT.  193 

Marathon.  Wealthy  Greeks,  in  other  countries,  donate 
immense  sums  to  keep  alive  the  old  form  of  Greece.  Mag- 
nificent buildings  are  erected  by  their  generosity.  Rail- 
roads are  extending  all  over  the  land,  the  public  roads 
are  improved,  telegraphs  are  in  constant  operation,  and 
activity  is  prevalent  all  over  the  little  archipelago. 

Education  is  universal;  not  only  are  schools  of  every 
grade  numerous,  but  the  parents  and  children  are  eager 
to  make  the  best  of  their  opportunities.  Travelers  will 
see,  at  the  corner  of  every  street,  boys  who  are  reciting 
their  "Iliad"  and  their  "Odyssey"  aloud,  who  have  mas- 
tered their  mathematics  and  astronomy.  The  fact  is,  that 
education  is  free  to  everybody;  all  schools,  including  the 
universities,  throw  open  their  doors,  and  give  a  hearty 
welcome  to  all  who  desire  to  enter.  The  University  of 
Athens  has  within  its  walls  about  three  thousand  stu- 
dents, the  most  of  them  being  as  poor  as  a  newspaper 
correspondent.  There  are  no  fees  required,  and  living 
is  cheap.  My  guide,  a  stalwart,  strapping  fellow,  was  a 
graduate ;  many  of  the  waiters  at  the  hotels  and  the  labor- 
ers are  students.  Every  year  the  university  graduates 
six  hundred  doctors.  There  is  a  growing  opinion  among 
Greek  statesmen  that  education  in  this  university  is  too 
cheap,  and  when  I  was  there,  there  was  much  discussion 
in  regard  to  the  matter. 

But  what  of  modern  Athens?  It  was  a  charming  day. 
The  skies  were  cloudless  and  the  air  was  sweet  when  I 
caught  my  first  glimpse  of  this  city  of  Minerva.  Its  loca- 
tion— how  grandly  beautiful !  If  an  angel  were  sent  out 
to  locate  a  city  he  could  not  light  upon  a  more  delightful 
spot  than  that  of  this  capital  of  Greece.  It  is  everywhere 
clothed  with  classic  recollections;  every  inch  of  ground 
is  vital  with  beautiful  and  patriotic  memories.  I  do  not 
13 


194  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

believe  that  so  small  a  portion  of  God's  earth  is  so  rich 
in  art,  scenery,  and  patriotic  deeds  as  Athens.  Arriving 
at  Piraeus  from  Palestine  in  the  morning,  I  took  the  train 
to  the  city,  and  all  along  the  route — it  is  only  five  miles — 
picturesque  and  historical  places  were  pointed  out. 

The  first  things  that  arrest  the  eye  are  the  names  and 
characters  of  the  streets.  In  other  cities  the  traveler  can 
make  out  the  names  by  the  similarity  of  the  Italian  or 
French  words  to  the  English.  Here  it  is  different ;  for  the 
names  are  Greek,  printed  in  Greek  characters.  The 
streets  usually  bear  the  names  of  some  of  the  great  heroes 
of  Greece;  such  as,  Themistocles,  Alcibiades,  Hermes. 
There  is  one  street  called  after  Lord  Byron,  the  benefactor 
and  champion  of  Greece.  Hermes  Street  probably  has 
the  finest  church,  the  Agra  Triada.  The  street  Consti- 
tution is  very  fine.  It  possesses  the  two  finest  hotels — 
the  Grande  Bretagne  and  the  Angleterre,  fronting  the 
royal  palace — a  palace  only  in  name,  having  no  elements 
of  grandeur.  The  handsomest  street  is  the  Rue  des 
Phillenes.  Here  the  Greeks  are  daily  and  nightly  prome- 
nading. It  is  the  street  which  constantly  brings  up  the 
recollections  of  the  mighty  past.  Frequently  the  stranger, 
as  he  walks  about  the  streets,  is  presented,  as  an  evidence 
of  Athenian  hospitality,  with  a  roasted  chestnut. 

The  peculiar  dress  of  the  modern  Athenian  is  very 
attractive,  and  is  called  the  Fuestenella,  being  a  pictur- 
esque resemblance  to  the  kilt  of  the  Scottish  Highlanders. 
It  consists  of  a  red  cap  with  a  purple  tassel,  a  short  jacket, 
a  sash  around  the  waist,  and  a  petticoat  of  white  goods 
coming  down  to  the  knees.  This  costume  is  pre-eminent 
for  its  colors,  all  except  green,  and  its  gracefulness. 
Everywhere  through  Athens  there  is  a  quietness  which 
contrasts  strangely  with  the  boisterousness  and  activity 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   ORIENT.  195 

of  European  cities.  No  one  is  in  a  hurry.  In  London, 
New  York,  Paris,  Milan,  and  Brussels,  one  can  scarcely 
walk  the  streets,  so  crowded  are  they,  policemen  being 
stationed  at  every  corner  to  assist  people  in  crossing.  It 
is  not  so  in  Athens.  It  is  like  a  quiet  college-town  far 
from  railroads  and  busy  commercial  life. 

The  approach  to  Constantinople  is  the  most  interest- 
ing and  picturesque  in  the  world.  The  Archipelago  is 
itself  one  of  the  most  suggestive  sheets  of  water  ever 
sailed  over.  There  is  Rhodes,  distinguished  for  liberty, 
learning,  and  patriotism.  There  is  Patmos,  where  the 
beloved  disciple  John  spent  his  exile,  and  to  whom  the 
heavens  were  so  marvelously  opened.  There  is  Lesbos, 
which  surpassed  Athens  in  culture.  Then  there  are  the 
nine  isles  of  which  Byron  has  sung  so  nobly : 

"  The  isles  of  Greece,  the  isles  of  Greece, 

Where  burning  Sappho  loved  and  sang; 
Where  grew  the  arts  of  war  and  peace, 
Where  Phoebus  rose  and  Delos  sprang." 

I  have  said  that  the  approach  to  this  city  was  pic- 
turesque and.  enchanting,  but  the  location  of  Constanti- 
nople is  the  grandest  in  Europe.  St.  Petersburg,  with  its 
noble  river;  Stockholm,  on  its  many  islands;  Venice,  the 
bride  of  the  sea — can  not  rival  the  city  of  the  ancient 
Caesars.  To  see  Rome  and  die  is  mere  gratuitous  advice, 
when  the  other  Rome,  the  charming  city  of  Constantine, 
remains  to  be  visited.  There  is  hardly  a  scene  in  the  wide 
world  so  replete  with  natural  beauty,  so  rich  in  storied 
recollections,  as  that  inclosed  betwixt  the  Bosphorus  and 

"  The  dark  blue  water, 
That  swiftly  glides  and  gently  swells 
Between  the  winding  Dardanelles." 


196  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Upon  the  Church  of  St.  Sophia  wealth  and  beauty 
have  been  lavished,  and  even  Solomon's  Temple  was  not 
superior  to  St.  Sophia.  There  is  no  end  to  the  stories 
told  of  it.  It  is  built  on  the  lines  of  a  square,  from  the 
center  of  which  rises  the  great  dome,  supported  by  four 
great  arches.  Surrounding  the  interior  of  this  stupen- 
dous skeleton  are  seven  half  skeletons  or  domes.  Over 
all  comes  the  sunlight  in  great  shafts  of  varying  color 
through  the  gorgeous  stained-glass  windows.  Into  the 
mortar  of  the  bricks  was  thrown  a  vast  quantity  of  musk, 
and  to-day,  six  hundred  years  after  it  was  put  there,  there 
lingers  an  odor  of  musk.  There  are  no  stairways  to  the 
different  stories,  but  broad  inclines.  One  of  the  windows 
is  called  that  of  "the  cooling  wind,"  as  there  is  always  a 
pleasant  breeze  comes  through  it.  A  spot  in  the  wall  is 
pointed  out  to  the  visitor,  and  the  following  legend  told 
him:  The  bishop  was  one  day  celebrating  worship,  when 
the  Turks  burst  in.  He  turned  to  flee,  the  solid  wall 
opened  and  inclosed  him  before  the  eyes  of  the  maddened 
Turks.  In  a  fury  at  being  thus  deprived  of  their  prey, 
they  dug  into  the  wall,  but  could  not  find  him.  It  is  be- 
lieved that,  after  the  fall  of  the  Turkish  Empire,  the  bishop 
will  come  forth. 

St.  Sophia  is  large  enough  to  hold  three  thousand 
people.  It  is  recorded  that,  when  the  capital  was  taken, 
one  hundred  thousand  took  refuge  there,  only  to  be  mur- 
dered. At  the  sight  of  the  wealth  and  splendor,  the  mob 
became  wild,  and  then  the  carnage  began.  But  the 
church  will  yet  overshadow  the  mosque. 

As  I  made  the  tour  of  the  walls,  my  guide  told  me  the 
following  story  of  an  old  convent  included  in  one  of  the 
views:  During  the  siege  of  1453,  a  monk  was  frying  fish 
for  his  supper,  when  a  brother  monk  rushed  in,  shouting 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   ORIENT.  197 

that  a  breach  had  been  made  in  the  walls,  and  that  the 
Turks  were  already  in  the  city.  The  monk  declared  that 
it  could  not  be  true ;  he  would  not  believe  it  unless  the  fish 
jumped  out  of  the  frying-pan;  whereupon  the  fish  jumped 
to  one  side,  assuming  its  original  color.  It  is  safe  to 
assume  that  the  monk  then  believed  this  miraculous  evi- 
dence. 

I  found  one  of  the  greatest  attractions  of  Constanti- 
nople to  be  the  bazaars.  They  are  now,  as  they  were  in 
the  time  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  a  series  of  unpaved  streets, 
roofed  in  at  the  top.  The  wares  are  of  every  variety. 
The  shoemaker  and  the  harnessmaker  are  there;  so  also 
the  sellers  of  cloth  and  silks,  and  of  every  article  needed 
under  the  sun.  The  most  curious  is  the  bazaar  where 
second-hand  articles  are  sold  by  peripatetic  salesmen. 
The  shops  are  little  more  than  small  cupboards,  with  room 
enough  for  the  merchant  to  sit  in.  The  merchant  begins 
by  asking  a  big  price.  When  a  customer  appears,  the 
seller  begins  his  opening  speech.  He  covers  his  wares 
with  the  golden  embroidery  of  Oriental  praises,  and  as  he 
talks  he  gracefully  waves  the  object  back  and  forth  before 
the  supposed-to-be  dazzled  eyes  of  the  desired  purchaser. 
He  lifts  his  undulating  periods,  upholds  and  poises  them 
well  till  they  have  gathered  their  weight  and  their 
strength,  and  then  hurls  them  forward.  The  expectant 
buyer  listens  to  the  speech  with  deep  and  serious  atten- 
tion ;  but  when  it  is  over,  his  turn  arrives.  He  elaborately 
endeavors  to  show  why  he  should  not  buy  the  goods  at 
twenty  times  their  value.  Bystanders,  attracted  to  the 
debate,  take  part  in  it  as  outsiders.  The  seller  is  heard  in 
reply,  and  coming  down  with  his  price,  furnishes  the  ma- 
terials for  a  new  debate. 

On  seeing  the  Turks  for  the  first  time,  the  European  is 


198  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

struck,  but  not  astonished;  for  his  imagination  has  been 
prepared  for  contrasts.  The  Turk  is  ferocious,  and  con- 
stantly animated  with  a  religious  hatred  against  every- 
thing which  is  not  Mohammedan,  regarding  the  foreigner 
always  with  contempt.  He  is  inhospitable  and  proud,  and 
treats  others  with  arrogance.  He  is  base  and  cringing  to- 
wards those  above  him,  and  subtle  towards  those  who  do 
not  fear  him;  insolent  when  one  regards  him  with  awe. 
He  is  obstinate,  and  his  ignorance  shuts  his  eyes  against 
the  light.  More  credulous  than  can  be  supposed,  he  is  at 
the  same  time  suspicious  by  instinct.  He  is  fanatical  in 
his  religion,  and  punishes  a  Greek  with  death  if  he  lifts 
his  hand ;  and  the  same  penalty  is  dealt  to  a  Christian  who 
attempts  to  convert  a  Mohammedan.  If  an  Armenian 
happens  to  be  overtaken  by  a  shower,  he  must  return  to 
his  home  for  shelter ;  for  no  Turk  will  permit  him  to  enter 
his  dwelling.  It  is  the  stupid  ferocity  of  the  Turk  which 
makes  him  courageous.  He  goes  to  the  combat  with 
resolution,  and  defends  himself  to  the  last  extremity,  ex- 
pecting to  receive  a  crown  for  his  apparent  bravery.  In 
commercial  transactions,  he  rarely  breaks  his  word,  and 
is  magnificent  in  his  presents.  Like  the  rest  of  the  Asiat- 
ics, he  is  unacquainted  with  that  refined  and  delicate  love 
which  constitutes  the  happiness  of  civilized  life.  He  is 
constantly  under  the  influence  of  jealousy.  Many  only 
look  upon  their  wives  as  slaves  to  their  caprices,  and  sel- 
dom experience  those  endearments  of  conjugal  love  which 
render  the  wife  a  comforter  in  distress.  How,  indeed, 
can  a  woman  conceive  a  profound  attachment  for  her 
husband  when  she  knows  there  are  others  under  the  same 
roof  possessing  the  same  title? 

The  character  of  the  Jew  is  everywhere  apparent ;  but 
in  each  country ^  a  different  variety  is  found,  and  the  Jews 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   ORIENT.      .  199 

of  Turkey  are  not  the  least  interesting.  The  English 
species  we  know  well;  the  shabbily-dressed  gentleman, 
with  rings  and  breastpin,  with  bushy  black  whiskers,  and 
a  mouthful  of  glittering  black  teeth.  Then  there  is  the 
flaxen-haired  Jew,  generally  poor  and  shiftless,  serving 
over  the  cheap  tables  of  a  bazaar.  The  German  Jew  is 
intellectually  superior  to  the  others.  He  is  more  of  the 
type  which  Rembrandt  loved  to  paint — small,  with  dark, 
dry  features. 

The  researches  of  the,  Jew  are  often  as  laborious  as 
those  of  the  professors  of  other  nations,  his  logic  as  sound, 
his  critical  eye  as  acute,  his  imagination  as  brilliant.  As 
a  philosopher,  he  adds  another  system  to  the  universe; 
as  a  theologian,  gives  a  deeper  meaning  to  the  teaching 
of  John  and  Paul.  The  Jew  of  Eastern  Europe  is  physic- 
ally the  finest  of  his  race.  The  bearded  old  Hebrew  who 
comes  from  Poland,  with  a  wallet  at  his  back,  is  often 
chosen  as  a  model  by  admiring  artists,  to  pose  as  Abraham 
or  Eli  or  Moses.  The  Jews  of  Constantinople  are  mostly 
relics  of  the  tribe  which  fled  from  the  fires  of  the  Inquisition 
in  Western  Europe,  and  their  thick  Semitic  Spanish  blood 
is  still  herded  in  the  close  alleys  where  they  exist — outcasts 
lower  than  the  lowest,  and  beings  on  whom  the  meanest 
Armenians  may  inflict  the  blows  he  has  received  from  his 
Turkish  master.  They  are  a  quiet  race,  slender  and 
stooping,  with  something  weak  and  idiotic  in  their  coun- 
tenances. Occasionally  there  is  one  whose  features  might 
have  been  intelligent,  if  a  brighter  future  had  ever  allowed 
any  noble  or  intelligent  thoughts  to  awaken  the  dormant 
mind,  or  the  sun  of  hope  had  ever  broken  through  the 
close  mist  woven  by  the  contempt  and  poverty  which 
must  encircle  the  journey  of  his  life.  Though  they  are 
what  they  are,  one  can  still  imagine  that  in  the  schools  of 


200  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Cordova  and  Toledo  their  forefathers  were  great  in  phi- 
losophy and  medicine;  that  they  were  the  physicians  of 
emperors,  and  even  gave  many  a  bishop  to  the  Church 
that  persecuted  them.  However,  the  descendants  are 
poor  and  miserable,  earning  a  scanty  meal  by  selling  their 
petty  wares.  And  there  they  stand,  at  the  entrance  of 
Bosporus,  whispering  confidentially  to  each  tourist,  and 
offering  their  services  with  that  mysterious  and  secret  air 
which  characterizes  the  race.  Crowds  of  peddlers  of  all 
kinds  are  to  be  seen  everywhere.  The  cry  of  "Milko ! 
milko!  bono  milko,  Jonny!"  is  everywhere  to  be  heard. 
The  milk  is  carried  in  bottles,  and  sold  by  glassfuls  to  the 
thirsty  travelers.  I  heard  a  boy,  in  reply  to  a  soldier 
asking,  "Joe,  have  you  got  anything  good  in  that  bottle?" 
"Nix  bono,  wateree,"  was  the  answer.  This  sort  of  talk 
goes  on  all  day.  The  Turks  never  drink.  They  are  the 
soberest  of  people,  and  kind  to  animals.  The  children  and 
male  Turks  are  a  handsome  race;  the  women  are  not  so. 
Their  beauties  come  from  Circassia.  These  are  seen  to  the 
greatest  advantage  by  making  a  visit  to  the  Sweet  Waters, 
where  are  a  profusion  of  beautiful  faces,  all  like  sisters. 
The  tourist  is  dazzled  by  the  view  of  Constantinople, 
with  the  sea  covered  with  its  caiques  skimming  over  the 
surface,  its  sun-illumined  domes  of  mosques  and  sharp  gilt 
pillars  of  minarets,  its  burnished  columns  rising  majestic- 
ally !  As  I  was  gazing  on  some  of  these  objects  of  interest, 
the  Sultan  passed  on  his  way  to  his  prayers.  He  was 
followed  by  an  immense  retinue.  His  horses  were 
mounted  with  trappings  of  silver  and  gold,  and  the  harness 
was  richly  ornamented  with  diamonds  and  pearls.  As  he 
sat  in  his  carriage,  I  looked  at  him  closely.  His  features 
were  pale  and  regular,  and  his  large  black  eyes  were  busily 
engaged  in  scanning  the  crowds  of  people  as  he  passed 


TRAVELS  IN  THE   ORIENT.  2OI 

along.  Shouts  of  joy  announced  his  arrival  at  the  mosque. 
What  figures  on  all  the  warmth  and  depravity  breathe 
around  one  as  one  watches  the  Sultan  on  his  way  to 
prayers! — the  Persian  in  his  coat  of  many  colors,  the 
Arabian  in  his  flowing  robes,  the  African  with  his  war- 
club,  and  the  swarthy  Ethiopian  in  his  purple  buskins! 
Who  could  forget  this  picturesque  confusion? 

The  country  around  Constantinople  is  beautiful,  but 
with  an  air  of  desolation  which  arises  from  the  negligence 
of  man,  and  not  from  the  parsimony  of  nature.  Wherever- 
the  valleys  are  watered  by  natural  streams,  they  are  beau- 
tiful with  the  moist  and  vivid  green  of  Ireland.  There 
is  nothing  of  the  gorgeous  East,  however,  in  this  temper- 
ate climate.  One  interesting  spot  I  visited  was  called  the 
Sweet  Waters  of  Asia.  Formerly  this  spot  was  sacred  to 
women,  who  escaped  weekly  from  the  monotony  of  the 
harem  to  eat  sweetmeats,  and  envy  each  other  their  dia- 
monds, afar  from  the  profane  gaze  of  men.  They  still 
resort  to  it,  as  in  former  times,  in  gilded  carriages;  but 
their  privacy  is  invaded  by  a  crowd  of  adventurous  stran- 
gers, who  pass  up  and  down,  admiring  the  alabaster  com- 
plexions of  the  fair-skinned  Circassians.  The  poor  pris- 
oners seem  not  at  all  indignant  at  the  presence  of  the 
intruders.  They  wear  the  thinnest  veils,  and  appear  to 
detest  their  uncouth  and  sable  guardians.  However,  all 
intercourse,  except  that  of  looks,  is  impossible,  and  the 
tourists  return  home  with  the  new  idea  that  there  is 
something  lacking  in  Turkish  civilization. 

An  amusing  scene  took  place  at  Sweet  Waters  of  Asia. 
A  gallant  English  gentleman  was  determined  to  address 
a  few  words  to  some  fair  Mohammedan,  and  asked  a 
friend  to  write  him  down  some  complimentary  phrases  in 
the  Turkish  tongue;  such  as,  "You  are  pretty,"  "I  love 


202  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

you,"  etc.  Armed  with  this  document,  he  visited  the 
grove  waters,  and  selecting  the  prettiest  face,  leaned  in  at 
the  carriage  window,  and  proceeded  to  favor  the  lady 
with  the  contents  of  the  paper.  A  shriek  went  up  from 
the  eunuchs,  as  they  rushed  out  and  attempted  to  drag 
him  away.  The  officer  drew  his  sword  and  fled  in  dismay. 
The  lady  enjoyed  the  scene,  and  seemed  much  pleased  at 
the  discomfiture  of  her  guards. 

Scutari,  on  Asiatic  ground,  finds  the  Turk  more  at 
home.  Here  the  race  live  almost  untouched  by  Chris- 
tianity. They  are  here  ever  ready  to  gaze  on  all  foreigners 
with  curiosity.  Men  step  to  their  doors  and  scowl,  while 
spiteful  old  women  urge  the  little  children  to  cry,  "Giava" 
a  Turkish  word  of  contempt.  Scutari  is  directly  opposite 
Constantinople.  Its  beauties  in  ancient  times  were  more 
numerous  than  they  are  now.  Then  it  was  called  Chys- 
opolis,  City  of  God.  No  one  would  think  of  calling  it  so 
now ;  for  it  is  dirty  and  unsightly.  Close  by  is  Chalcedon ! 
How  degenerate  from  the  days  when  Eutychus's  heresy 
was  condemned !  Bishops  must  have  been  plentiful  in 
those  days,  when  there  was  one  for  every  city.  Nature 
has  given  it  the  advantages  of  a  cloudless  sky  and  mag- 
nificent scenery.  The  clustering  and  sunlit  islands  of  the 
Sea  of  Marmora;  the  deep  blue  Bosporus,  rippled-  only 
by  the  strong  and  never-ceasing  current  which  rushes 
down  its  center;  the  old  seraglio,  with  its  cypresses  and 
plane-trees ;  the  great  city  stretching  away,  with  the  seven 
towers  just  visible ;  St.  Sophia, — all  form  an  indescribably 
beautiful  landscape.  Some  of  the  largest  steamers  in  the 
world  have  lately  been  drawn  close  under  the  tent- 
crowned  heights,  and  this  gives  some  idea  of  the  magnifi- 
cent harbor.  The  steamers  look  like  little  smacks  that 
have  taken  shelter  under  the  cliffs. 


Chapter  XII. 

OTHER    COUNTRIES   AND    CITIES   VISITED— 
LONDON— PARIS. 

ISHALvL  never,  forget  my  emotions  when  I  saw  the 
vast  city  of  London,  the  growth  of  centuries,  where 
men  have  been  dying  for  generations,  and  where  the 
battle  and  the  plague  have  striven  to  see  which  should 
make  the  direst  havoc  of  human  life;  where  the  great 
dead  have  thronged  and  the  mighty  living  were  throng- 
ing ;  and  there  was  I,  not  knowing  a  solitary  human  being 
among  four  millions  like  myself.  And  even  here,  over  the 
dust  of  those  slain  by  the  plague  and  the  mightier  host 
slain  by  time,  the  wild,  reckless  laugh  is  heard,  commerce 
is  boisterously  pushing  its  wealth;  the  beautiful  lady  and 
the  gallant  beau  are  driving  their  steeds;  the  golden-em- 
broidered livery  of  servants  is  flashing  in  the  sunset !  O, 
there  is  something  painfully  sad  on  entering  such  a  city ! 
Where  are  the  men  who  figured  so  earnestly  years  ago — 
the  kings,  the  orators,  the  poets?  And  where  are  such 
men  as  Goldsmith,  Burke,  Sheridan,  Johnson?  What 
confusion  is  here!  What  evolutions  of  streets!  What 
piles  of  bricks,  mortar,  and  stone !  What  a  wilderness  of 
men !  What  a  hell  of  thoughts  and  actions,  and  I  among 
them  all,  only  a  four-millionth  part!  How  utterly  insig- 
nificant we  are! 

Think  of  its  size !  We  are  apt  to  talk  loosely  of  this 
immense  city,  and  yet  we  are  bewildered  at  the  endless- 
ness, and  the  startling  contrasts  of  wealth  and  poverty. 
It  is  the  elephant  among  cities,  covering  one  hundred  and 

203 


204  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

twenty  square  miles.  On  this  space  is  concentrated  a 
population  equaling  that  of  the  States  of  Illinois  and 
Wisconsin,  or  that  of  New  York,  Brooklyn,  Boston,  and 
St.  Louis.  It  is  still  growing!  Between  1861-71,  150,000 
new  buildings  were  erected.  "A  city?"  says  a  French 
writer.  "No ;  it  is  a  province,  covered  with  houses."  Five 
times  more  populous  than  New  York,  four  times  more 
populous  than  St.  Petersburg,  twice  as  populous  as  Con- 
stantinople, two-thirds  larger  than  Paris — the  mind  fails 
to  understand,  the  brain  recoils  from  the  mighty  sum. 
The  kings  of  Wurtemberg,  of  Saxony,  and  Hanover,  do 
not  possess  as  many  subjects  as  sleep  in  London.  When 
the  sun  flashed  a  light  on  a  dark  place,  there  were  not  so 
many  people  in  all  England  as  in  London.  Every  eight 
minutes  of  every  day  a  soul  goes  out  to  the  eternal  world ; 
and  this  marvel  of  mystery  and  death  is  more  than 
neutralized  by  the  greater  mystery  of  life,  for  every  five 
minutes  of  every  day  a  child  is  born.  If  it  were  possible 
for  the  population  of  London  to  be  stretched  out  in  a 
line,  the  line  would  be  six  hundred  and  seventy  miles  long ; 
and  at  the  space  of  three  miles  an  hour,  it  would  be  nine 
days  before  the  last  of  the  long  procession  swept  by. 

Think  of  its  wealth !  London  is  to  the  modern  world 
what  Rome  was  to  the  ancient  in  regard  to  wealth.  But 
Rome  in  its  palmiest  days  was  poor  by  comparison. 
Take  up  your  position  in  Regent  Park,  and  you  will  see 
more  wealth  in  one  day  than  all  Paris.  The  four  million 
souls  which  compose  the  city  need  not  do  a  day's  more 
work.  They  have  capital  enough  invested  in  stocks  to 
support  the  whole  population — to  purchase  them  food, 
clothing,  and  to  pay  all  their  taxes.  The  leisure  class  are 
numerous.  London  is  the  headquarters  of  the  landed 
aristocracy  of  the  three  kingdoms,  that  are  receiving  rents 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  205 

aggregating  one  thousand  million  dollars.  Here  is  con- 
centrated the  banking  wealth  of  England ;  here  is  held  the 
bonds  representing  the  national  debt;  here  is  owned  the 
majority  of  bonds  of  Great  Britain  and  the  colonies ;  here 
is  the  grand  depot  of  the  tea;  here  is  the  focus  of  the 
shipping  trade. 

Think  of  its  historic  spots !  There  is  the  Tower.  It 
is  located  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Thames,  near  the  im- 
mense docks.  Whether  it  was  built  by  Caesar,  by  Con- 
stantine,  by  William  Rufus,  is  unknown.  Kings  fled  to 
it  for  safety.  Wallace  poured  out  his  blood  here.  For 
three  hundred  years  kings,  from  Henry  VIII  to  Richard 
II,  were  crowned  within  these  walls.  It  was  the  scene  of 
magnificence  and  splendor.  Here  languished  and  died 
princes.  Religion,  in  the  person  of  Lord  Cobham,  suffered 
when  the  fire  was  kindled  beneath  him.  Jane  Shore,  the 
famous,  was  a  prisoner,  and  so  was  Sir  Thomas  More, 
within  these  bastions.  For  a  while  there  was  rest ;  but  the 
gates  began  to  grate,  and  Ann  Boleyn,  on  the  iQth  of 
May,  1537,  was  executed;  then  followed  another  unhappy 
wife,  Catherine  Howard.  We  might  follow  the  gloomy 
history  of  the  Tower  through  the  reigns  of  Mary  and 
Elizabeth;  but  the  stories  of  the  bloody  cruelties  are  too 
well  known  to  need  repetition  here. 

Westminster  Hall  stands  diagonally  across  from  the 
Abbey,  and  forms  the  vestibule  to  both  Houses  of  Par- 
liament. It  was  built  four  hundred  years  ago,  and  has 
been  the  scene  of  many  brilliant  festivities.  What  colors 
have  shone,  what  gold  and  silver  have  sparkled  here! 
What  shouts  have  rung  along  the  roof  under  Norman 
and  Tudor!  Here  Henry  II  served  his  son;  here  took 
place  the  espousals  of  Henry  III  and  Eleanor.  But  it  is 
as  a  place  of  justice  especially  that  American  memories 


206  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

cluster  around  it.  Here  was  tried  Stratford,  in  1745 ;  here, 
above  all  others,  was  the  memorable  trial  of  Warren  Hast- 
ings, who,  for  eleven  years,  had  been  governor  of  India. 
The  trial  commenced  the  I3th  of  February,  1788.  Rank 
and  fashion  crowded  the  seats.  Burke  spoke  for  four 
days.  Ladies  fainted,  and  even  Hastings  said,  "For  four 
days  I  thought  I  was  guilty."  Burke  was  followed  by 
Sheridan,  in  a  speech  of  unsurpassed  eloquence,  attaining 
the  summit  of  oratory.  Hastings  was  acquitted. 

All  nations  have  their  characteristics,  and  so  have  the 
English,  which  distinguish  them  from  all  others.  The 
English  are  a  strong  race — strong  physically,  strong  men- 
tally, strong  morally.  The  blood  of  six  or  eight  races 
was  required  to  make  them  illustrious.  Thomas  Corwin 
said  that  Webster  had  burst  suddenly  into  such  eloquence 
in  Congress  that  he  became  faint,  and  was  obliged  to  lean 
up  against  a  pillar  for  support.  The  sentence  which  over- 
came him  was  this:  "The  morning  drum-beat,  traveling 
with  the  sun,  and  keeping  time  with  the  stars,  circled  the 
earth  with  one  continuous  strain  of  the  martial  airs  of 
England." 

The  English  are  governed  by  the  great  law  of  duty. 
Other  nations  are  impelled  by  the  love  of  glory,  by  a 
renowned  past,  by  pride  of  conquest ;  but  everywhere  that 
the  Englishman  goes  it  is  at  the  call  of  duty.  It  is  this 
that  has  carried  England's  flag  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
that  has  adorned  English  womanhood  with  grace  and 
beauty.  Nelson,  on  the  eve  of  the  Battle  of  Trafalgar, 
when  he  flung  out  the  Union  Jack  with  the  inscription 
upon  it,  "England  to-morrow  expects  every  man  to  do 
his  duty,"  touched  the  keynote  of  English  character. 

The  English  are  a  polite  people,  although  I  know 
that  the  very  opposite  idea  is  entertained  by  Americans, 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  207 

and  also  that  they  are  surly  and  positively  rude  and  re- 
pellent in  their  manners.  I  have  traveled  extensively  in 
England,  where  I  have  asked  thousands  of  questions,  and 
invariably  I  have  received  civil  answers.  I  remember  one 
day,  while  visiting  Dr.  Parker's  church,  I  asked  an  Eng- 
lishman near  me  the  address  of  Gladstone,  whom  I  was 
exceedingly  anxious  to  see.  Without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion he  accompanied  me  out  of  the  church,  and  walked 
with  me  for  nearly  two  miles,  until  we  came  to  Downing 
Street,  when  he  pointed  out  the  house,  and  then  left  me. 

Loyalty  to  the  queen,'  extravagant  eulogies  upon  roy- 
alty, are  the  tests  of  admission  into  what  is  called  the 
best  society;  hence,  in  all  their  churches,  their  theaters, 
their  public 'meetings,  "God  save  the  Queen"  is  the  most 
popular  song  sung.  Sixteen  thousand  paid  ministers  of 
the  Established  Church,  all  the  Dissenting  preachers,  all 
the  Roman  Catholic  priests,  all  the  Jewish  rabbis  through- 
out England,  and  wherever  the  English  flag  floats,  pray 
for  Her  Majesty's  royal  soul.  "God  save  the  Queen"  is  a 
very  flexible  and  comprehensive  prayer.  It  means  not 
only  the  present  and  eternal  happiness  of  the  queen,  but 
it  includes  the  continuation  and  preservation  of  English 
laws,  customs,  and  government,  for  all  time  to  come. 
When  the  landlord  says,  "God  save  the  Queen,"  it  means, 
"May  my  rents  be  paid  promptly;"  when  the  archbishop 
of  Canterbury  says  it,  it  means  to  him,  "My  $80,000 
salary;"  when  all  the  members  of  the  royal  family  repeat 
it,  it  means  that  all  the  royal  allowances,  including  the 
queen's  $2,000,000  annually,  be  cheerfully  paid ;  when  the 
eighteen  brewers  who  were  recently  elected  pray,  "God 
save  the  Queen,"  it  means,  "May  our  breweries  always 
be  prosperous  and  profitable!" 

The  English  are  very  thrifty  and  industrious.     Noth- 


208  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

ing  goes  to  waste  in  England,  in  which  respect  they  re- 
semble the  French.  The  working  classes  secure  the 
greatest  results  out  of  the  most  limited  means,  being  very 
frugal  and  saving.  The  mercantile  community  always 
have  an  eye  to  business.  They  might  be  compared  to 
the  French  widow  who  had  a  flattering  inscription  en- 
graved on  her  husband's  monument,  followed  by  the 
announcement  that  "His  disconsolate  widow  still  keeps 
the  shop,  No.  16  Rue  St.  Denis." 

The  English  are  a  handsome  race.  The  blood  of  sev- 
eral generations  shows  in  the  robust,  healthy  bodies  of  the 
men  and  the  rosy  complexions  of  the  women,  in  the 
healthy,  outdoor  exercise  of  all  classes.  The  children  are 
very  respectful  to  their  parents,  and  it  is  seldom  that  a 
child  contradicts  anything  they  say.  The  English  girls 
have  beautiful  faces,  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  that 
Pope  Gregory,  a  thousand  years  ago,  said,  when  he  beheld 
a  lot  of  English  girls,  "They  are  not  Angles,  they  are 
angels." 

The  English  are  reserved  at  first  to  strangers;  but 
when  they  are  fully  satisfied  that  the  stranger  who  is 
introduced  is  not  an  impostor,  and  is  worthy  their  esteem, 
there  is  nothing  they  leave  undone  to  make  him  feel  at 
home.  An  Italian  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance  told 
me  that  he  resolved  to  seek  his  fortune  in  France  or 
England.  He  took  with  him  a  large  number  of  recom- 
mendations. Stopping  first  at  Paris,  he  called  on  a  leading 
merchant,  and  presented  one  of  his  letters.  The  French- 
man was  all  courtesy,  all  smiles.  "O  yes;  thank  you  for 
your  visit.  We  will  do  all  we  possibly  can  for  you."  More 
smiles,  more  courtesy,  more  bows,  and  the  Italian  took 
his  departure,  confident  of  an  immediate  position.  Day 
after  day  passed,  and  he  called  often,  always  to  be  met 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  209 

with  the  same  suave  politeness  and  promises ;  but  no  situ- 
ation. He  then  went  to  London,  and  presented  his  letters 
to  a  manufacturer.  The  Englishman  read  the  communi- 
cations carefully  and  slowly,  and  then  said  coldly :  "Really, 
sir,  I  do  not  think  we  can  do  anything  for  you,  as  our 
establishment  here  is  full;  but  if  you  will  remain  in  the 
city  a  few  days,  and  then  call  again,  perhaps  we  may  be 
able  to  help  you."  The  Italian  remained,  and  found,  when 
he  visited  the  manufacturer,  who  greeted  him  warmly, 
though  not  demonstratively,  that  he  had  made  a  place  for 
him  in  their  establishment'at  Manchester,  a  position  which 
he  held  for  many  years.  I  might  say  here,  while  referring 
to  French  politeness,  that  a  writer  of  old,  while  speaking 
of  the  relations  between  the  French  and  the  Indians,  said 
that  while  a  Frenchman  was  bowing  and  offering  a  chair 
to  a  man,  the  Indians  could  finish  three  councils. 

The  English  have  always  been  noted  for  their  courage. 
The  common  impression  that  John  Bull  is  a  cold-blooded 
animal,  calculating,  and  a  bragging  coward,  who  can  eat  and 
drink  and  bluster,  and  even  fight  occasionally,  but  that  at 
the  critical  moment  his  courage  fails,  and  he  is  a  poltroon, 
is  very  far  from  the  truth.  Whatever  may  be  the  faults 
of  Englishmen,  they  are  not  cowards.  They  are  brave 
in  battle.  They  have  conquered,  not  only  the  hardy  tribes 
of  the  north,  but  the  dusky  multitudes  of  the  south.  Their 
rule  has  not  always  been  just  or  generous  to  the  con- 
quered, and  in  the  presence  of  the  magnificent  victories 
achieved  by  the  English  soldiers,  it  may  be  truthfully  said, 
in  the  words  of  the  poet : 

"  No  matter  how  blazoned  in  story 
The  fame  of  the  victor  may  be, 
Accursed  is  the  march  of  that  glory 
That  treads  on  the  hearts  of  the  free." 


210  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

I  visited — in  company  with  General  McAddras,  a  dis- 
tinguished French  general,  who  had  married  an  American 
lady — Versailles,  and  walked  through  its  galleries,  salons, 
and  chambers,  which  appeared  as  if  there  were  no  end  to 
them — filled  with  paintings,  sculptures,  mosaics,  marble, 
and  gilding.  I  enjoyed  a  hasty  visit  to  that  most  exquisite 
spot,  the  Little  Trianon,  where  Marie  Antoinette  and 
Louis  XVI  used  to  play  at  farming,  and  convert  the  ladies 
of  the  bedchamber  and  maids  of  honor  into  dairymaids, 
before  the  Revolution  swept  all  before  it.  I  lingered  with 
admiration  in  its  beautiful  walks  and  gardens.  I  watched 
for  hours  the  grand  display  of  the  fountains.  It  is  utterly 
impossible  to  convey  any  idea  of  the  effect  of  so  many 
magnificent  and  beautifuly-formed  fountains,  throwing 
their  waters  high  into  the  air  in  every  direction.  The 
crowning  sight  was,  however,  at  the  grand  basin  of  Nep- 
tune, where  at  least  200,000  people  had  assembled  to  see 
what  certainly  is  a  chef  d*  censure  of  fountains.  The  drive 
from  Paris  to  Versailles  is  exceedingly  interesting  and 
lovely.  Every  spot  of  ground  is  vital  with  some  historical 
event.  My  good  friend,  the  general,  pointed  out  many  rich 
palaces.  In  Versailles,  the  day  I  visited  it,  there  was  an 
anniversary  celebration  of  one  of  the  great  French  gen- 
erals of  the  Revolution,  Hoche — a  beautiful  custom  of 
this  people,  who  annually  repair  to  the  tombs  of  their 
illustrious  dead,  and  strew  them  with  flowers.  Many 
speeches  were  made,  and  the  United  States  was  gracefully 
remembered;  and  I  was  kindly  requested  to  say  a  few 
words  upon  Lincoln.  Loud  and  continued  acclamations 
greeted  the  tribute  to  the  martyr  President. 

The  evening  before,  I  had  a  strange  and  delightful 
experience.  It  was  the  first  night  I  had  been  in  Paris, 
and  when  I  was  walking  along  the  crowded  boulevard, 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  211 

jostled  by  the  throngs,  without  a  friendly  recognition,  I 
heard  a  voice  calling,  "Pepper,  come  and  see  your 
friends!"  My  curiosity  was  excited,  when  I  discovered 
the  speaker  to  be  James  Redpath,  the  early  friend  of 
bleeding  Kansas,  the  biographer  of  John  Brown,  and  the 
founder  of  the  Lyceum  that  bears  his  name.  He  intro- 
duced me  to  Mr.  P.  Egan,  who  was  banished  from  his 
country,  and  for  whose  capture  the  British  Government 
had  offered  a  reward.  Mr.  Egan  was  very  kind  in  showing 
me  the  wonders  of  the  city.  I  stopped  with  him  at  the 
same  hotel,  and  had  many  opportunities  of  witnessing  his 
daily  movements;  and  a  more  disinterested  gentleman 
I  never  met.  He  afterwards  represented  our  Government 
in  Chili,  rendering  brilliant  services.  I  have  heard  Dr. 
Drees,  a  Methodist  missionary,  speak  highly  of  his  liber- 
ality and  kindness  to  Protestant  missionaries. 

St.  Cloud  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  its  grand  woods, 
commanding  views  of  Paris,  and  for  its  artificial  cascades, 
a  splendid  piece  of  art  in  water.  The  palace  always  having 
been  a  favorite,  has  been  duly  cared  for.  St.  Germain  pos- 
sesses a  far  different  interest.  Its  partially  ruined  and  dis- 
mantled palace  is  associated  with  French  history  for  cen- 
turies. Its  noble  and  extensive  forest  is  faced  by  a  noble 
and  extensive  greensward  terrace,  two  miles  in  length, 
and  which  overlooks  the  valley  of  the  Seine.  I  had  an 
excellent  dinner  in  the  room  where  Louis  XIV  was  born. 

Nothing  in  all  the  world  can  surpass  the  beauty  and 
grandeur  of  the  French  Capital.  It  is  the  grandest  embod- 
iment of  the  French  mind,  and  the  most  modern  type  of 
the  ancient  cities,  of  which  fancy  dreams,  in  the  past.  To 
speak  of  it  is  to  speak  of  marvels  of  architecture,  grand 
churches,  spacious  and  costly  galleries  of  art,  wide  and 
ornamental  streets,  attractive  and  splendid  cafes.  The 


212  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

River  Seine,  which  runs  through  Paris,  is  one  continual 
line  of  beauty.  This  city  has  no  rival.  We  may  contrast, 
but  not  compare  it,  with  the  cities  of  the  Orient  or  of 
Europe.  London  is  grand,  but  not  beautiful;  Constanti- 
nople is  picturesque,  but  has  little  architectural  splendor; 
Paris  has  all  these.  I  have  seen  Venice,  unrivaled  for 
situation  and  immortalized  by  Byron;  Florence,  with  its 
broad  and  finished  streets  and  its  old  palaces ;  I  have  seen 
London,  distinguished  for  its  vast  industries, — but  Paris 
surpasses  them  all. 

The  boulevards,  commenced  by  King  Louis  XIV, 
are  grand.  Two  thousand  vehicles,  with  their  rush 
of  wheels,  their  whirl  of  life,  pass  over  them  every 
day.  Then  there  are  the  famous  resorts — St.  Honore, 
where  Marie  Antoinette  won  all  hearts;  the  Palais 
Royal,  where  wealth  and  fashion  hold  their  revelry; 
the  Place  de  la  Concorde;  the  tomb  of  Napoleon, 
above  the  door  of  which  one  reads,  "I  desire 
that  my  ashes  may  rest  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Seine,  among  the  people  that  I  have  loved  so  well;'' 
the  Church  of  Notre  Dame,  which  has  in  turn  conse- 
crated and  deified  so  many  sovereigns,  baptized  and  con- 
secrated so  many  revolutions ;  which  has  opened  its  sacred 
portals  to  so  many  usurpers;  whose  high  altar  has  show- 
ered so  many  blessings  indiscriminately  upon  the  heredi- 
tary monarch  and  the  democratic  leveler,  upon  the  heir 
of  kings  and  the  elect  of  the  people;  a  sanctuary  famous 
for  its  great  preachers  and  great  events.  Perhaps  the 
most  gorgeous  event  which  has  transpired  there  in  recent 
years  was  the  marriage  of  the  late  Napoleon.  Beneath 
its  vast  dome,  twenty  thousand  spectators  beheld  a  pa- 
geant never  surpassed.  The  thoughtful  observer  thinks 
of  many  brilliant  ceremonies  that  have  taken  place  of  the 


OTHER  COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  213 

same  nature ;  of  the  beautiful  Josephine,  who  stood  before 
Napoleon  I,  in  robes  of  unrivaled  splendor,  sparkling  with 
jewels,  wearing  an  ancient  coronet,  her  lovely  face  radiant 
with  smiles,  and  her  black  eyes  lustrous  with  tears  of  joy. 

I  thought,  as  I  surveyed  the  church,  of  many  a  figlia 
dolor osa  who  had  knelt  for  a  blessing  at  the  foot  of  the 
altar;  of  the  beautiful  Marie  Antoinette,  and  her  tragic 
fate,  recalling  the  eloquent  eulogy  of  Burke;  of  the 
Duchess  of  Orleans,  flying  from  the  maddened  populace, 
with  the  infant  heir  of  the  .French  monarchy  in  her  arms. 
I  thought  of  the  bishops  in  their  mitered  robes,  holdingthe 
silver  canopy  over  the  head  of  the  august  bride  of  Napo- 
leon III.  Some  future  Burke,  depicting  the  horrors  of 
another  Revolution,  may  extort  tears  from  the  most  cal- 
lous in  recording  the  agonies  of  that  heart  whose  joyous 
pulsations  stirred  the  diamonds  that  glittered  on  the  breast 
of  the  Spanish  beauty,  the  lovely  Eugenie !  When  I  saw 
her  afterwards  in  Milan,  the  loveliness,  which  shone  like 
the  hues  of  the  morning  on  her  bridal-day,  had  vanished 
in  the  darkness  and  desolation  that  had  broken  her  heart, 
and  thrown  a  pall  of  sorrow  over  her  once  handsome  face. 

It  was  in  this  cathedral  that  Bossuet  and  Massillon 
preached  those  wonderful  sermons  which  will  live  forever; 
and  that  Pere  Hyacinthe  thrilled  thousands  by  his  fearless 
utterance,  "I  will  not  enter  Notre  Dame  in  chains,"  when 
the  Church  attempted  to  prevent  the  expression  of  his 
advanced  sentiments.  I  heard  this  famous  divine.  He  is 
unquestionably  a  great  preacher ;  but  it  is  gross  caricature 
to  elevate  him  to  the  position  of  the  Saurins  and  the 
Bourdaloues.  He  is  bold,  vigorous,  dashing,  discursive, 
sometimes  rising  into  animated  declamation.  His  pero- 
ration, the  day  I  heard  him,  was  decidedly  beautiful.  It 
was  studied  with  elaboration,  worked  into  the  memory, 


214  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

and  delivered  with  thrilling  effect.  The  French  love 
eloquence,  and  Pere  Hyacinthe  at  that  time  was  the  most 
accomplished  master  of  speech  in  Paris.  He  has  all  the 
physical  gifts  of  the  orator — a  massive  chest  of  immense 
breadth,  a  voice  of  great  compass,  and  thrilling  in  its 
tones;  his  gestures  are  perfect,  his  arms  moving  with  the 
incessant  motion  of  the  windmill,  but  as  graceful  and 
harmonious  as  the  sails  of  a  ship. 

Paris  is  full  of  such  historic  and  memorable  churches 
and  places.  All  Frenchmen  are  proud  of  their  marvelous 
capital.  Voltaire,  in  a  letter  to  the  King  of  France,  says : 
"In  ten  years  you  might  make  Paris  the  marvel  of  the 
world.  Such  an  undertaking  would  confer  glory  on  the 
nation,  and  immortality  on  the  council  of  the  city.  It 
would  encourage  all  arts,  attract  strangers  from  the  ex- 
tremities of  Europe."  It  has  been  the  darling  ambition  of 
all  French  rulers  to  make  Paris  the  most  beautiful  city  in 
the  world.  It  is  built  on  a  level  plain,  twenty-one  miles 
in  circumference,  and  contains  a  population  of  over  two 
millions.  The  splendid  River  Seine,  flowing  through  the 
center,  is  spanned  by  thirty-five  bridges.  The  great  Na- 
tional Library,  the  Bibliotheque  Imperiale,  has  more  than 
a  million  and  a  half  of  books.  The  pavements  of  the 
streets  are  so  smooth  that  the  rattle  of  carriages  is  not 
heard;  this,  however,  is  dangerous  to  pedestrians,  an  av- 
erage of  seven  thousand  persons  being  injured  annually, 
and  five  hundred  killed. 

French  cooking  is  regarded  as  the  best  in  the  world. 
A  good  dinner  is  easily  obtained  for  twenty-five  cents. 

I  quickly  recognized  the  fact  that  the  average  French- 
man is  much  shorter  than  the  American.  This  is  especially 
noticeable  in  the  French  soldier;  but  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  describe  a  Frenchman.  His  head  is  particularly 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  215 

difficult — the  description  of  one  is  not  applicable  to  all. 
There  are  heads  of  various  sizes,  and  beards  of  all  shapes 
and  colors,  mustaches  of  every  possible  quality  and  quan- 
tity, and  hair  sometimes  flowing  like  a  mane  or  bristling 
like  the  quills  of  a  porcupine,  or  cut  as  close  as  scissors 
can  accomplish.  French  women  are  not  so  showily  dressed 
as  is  the  general  opinion.  They  are  usually  neatly  and 
prettily  clothed.  Whether  seen  in  the  theater,  or  in  the 
church,  or  upon  the  boulevards,  they  appear  fascinating, 
light-footed,  and  light-hearted.  The  French  people  are 
always  polite.  Ask  one  of  them  the  way  from  one  direc- 
tion to  another,  or  any  little  act  of  courtesy,  and  he  will 
immediately  forget  himself  in  his  efforts  to  render  the 
desired  service. 

I  was  everywhere  struck  in  Paris  with  the  great  display 
of  artistic  works.  Besides  the  elegant  buildings  that  have 
been  described,  the  statuary  in  the  public  gardens,  and 
the  paintings  which  so  profusely  adorn  the  churches  and 
galleries,  Paris  is  full  of  print-shops ;  portraits  of  public 
men  and  women  are  seen  in  all  quarters.  The  French  are, 
emphatically,  an  artistic  people.  They  have  a  strong  love 
of  poetry,  eloquence,  architecture. 

Like  the  generality  of  Americans,  I  \vas  impressed  with 
the  large  number  of  soldiers  in  France ;  every  fourth  man 
I  met  was  a  soldier.  The  French  soldier  differs  from  the 
German,  English,  or  even  American  soldier,  in  the  friendly 
and  social  relations  to  the  people.  It  is  not  uncommon  to 
see  a  soldier  and  a  citizen  walking  arm  in  arm  together, 
discussing  grave  questions.  Barracks  are  seen  every- 
where; soldiers  are  stationed  at  the  end  of  every  street. 
France,  with  all  its  art,  its  love  of  the  beautiful,  its  aspira- 
tions after  liberty,  its  high  regard  for  man,  has  by  far  too 
large  a  military  element.  But  beneath  that  military  tinsel 


2l6  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

exists  an  ardent  faith  in  the  power  of  ideas,  and  a  pure  and 
unquenchable  love  of  freedom.  In  this  may  be  seen  a 
power  that  will  carry  France  to  prosperity  and  continued 
greatness. 

I  have  great  admiration  for  the  French  people — for 
the  eight  million  peasant  proprietors  who  follow  their 
horses  to  the  field,  and  plow  up  their  own  land.  They  are 
sober,  thrifty,  and  industrious.  In  all  my  travels  in  that 
country,  I  never  saw  a  drunkard.  The  benevolent  wish  of 
a  French  King  seems  to  be  a  realized  condition.  He 
hoped  the  time  would  come  when  every  French  peasant 
would  have  a  chicken  in  his  pot. 

In  some  parts  of  the  country  a  custom  exists  where 
half  a  dozen  or  a  dozen  families — they  are  not  large — 
spend  the  evenings  together.  The  papers  are  read,  and 
the  leading  events  of  the  times  are  discussed.  By  this 
practice  sociability  is  cultivated  and  thrift  is  promoted. 
The  one  fire  serves  a  score  of  persons. 

There  is  much  in  France  that  we  dearly  love.  To 
Americans  the  name  of  France  stirs  the  proudest  recollec- 
tions of  the  patriotic  heart.  It  is  doubtful  whether  our 
Revolutionary  fathers  could  have  succeeded  had  not  La- 
fayette helped  them.  There  is  much  in  common  between 
the  French  and  American  Revolutions ;  they  both  fell  like 
thunder-peals  upon  the  ears  of  tyrants.  A  new  element 
was  called  into  operation,  powerful  and  extensively  dif- 
fused as  the  electric  fluids  in  the  kingdoms  of  nature,  and 
destined  to  work  and  spread  with  restless  activity.  The 
people  of  France  had  been  ground  to  earth,  and  they 
rose  with  a  heroic  grandeur  and  swept  feudalism  from 
their  country  forever.  The  French  people  are  gay,  lively, 
vivacious — the  predominating  trait  is  glory.  Hence  one 
reads  on  all  their  great  monuments,  "Dedicated  to  all  the 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  217 

glories  of  France."  There  is  method  in  the  Frenchman's 
suicide  madness ;  he  makes  every  preparation.  I  was  told 
of  a  man  who,  before  killing  himself,  sent  a  card  to  his 
friends:  "Come  and  dine  with  me  at  four;  I  will  blow  my 
brains  out  at  six."  If  this  volatile  and  brilliant  people 
have  their  vices,  they  have  also  their  splendid  virtues, 
possessing  many  of  the  noblest  traits  which  adorn  hu- 
manity. They  are  patriotic — they  love  France.  If  they 
had  not  been  patriotic  they  would  not  have  fought  seven 
bloody  revolutions,  and  drenched  their  sunny  soil  in  gore 
to  establish  a  republic — the  only  fit  form  of  government 
under  which  an  intelligent  man  ought  to  live. 

There  is  nothing  that  strikes  one  with  more  surprise 
than  the  air  of  self-satisfied  vanity  with  which  a  Parisian 
regards  his  shop.  It  is  the  first  object  of  the  whole  family 
whose  property  it  is.  All  the  resources  of  coquetry,  all  the 
artistic  taste  they  possess,  are  lavished  upon  its  adorn- 
ment. The  wife  looks  upon  it  as  her  temple,  where,  as 
presiding  goddess,  she  sits  enthroned;  for  behind  every 
counter  is  placed  a  luxurious  couch,  covered  with  choicest 
stuffs  in  the  most  glowing  colors.  Here  she  is  found  with 
all  the  unconstrained  ease  of  a  lady  at  home  in  her  draw- 
ing-room, chatting  with  a  neighbor  or  working  at  her 
embroidery  frame,  during  the  pauses  in  the  busy  day.  The 
children  watch  with  envy  lest  a  neighbor  should  eclipse 
their  shop  in  neatness,  and  the  graceful  propriety  with 
which  the  tempting  wares  are  exposed  for  sale.  From 
remote  streets  the  proprietors  of  the  distant  quartiers 
crowd  every  evening  to  the  boulevards  to  ascertain  what 
novelties  are  to  be  seen  in  the  great  stores,  known  all  over 
the  world  as  the  originators  of  fashion.  Then,  everything 
new  or  remarkable  is  copied  all  over  Paris  within  twenty- 
four  hours  after  it  is  exposed  to  view.  The  air  of  happy 


2l8  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

gayety  which  pervades  these  stores,  the  graceful  polite- 
ness, their  obligingness,  are  remarkable ;  and  yet  there  is 
no  servility.  Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  feature  in  their 
demeanor  is  that  entire  self-respect  which  they  will  main- 
tain at  any  cost.  An  amusing  instance  is  told  of  an 
Englishman.  He  entered  a  store  or  shop  with  his  hat  on, 
approached  the  spot  where  the  owner  of  the  establishment 
stood  talking  with  his  wife,  who  was  comfortably  seated  at 
her  work.  He  asked,  in  that,  careless,  insolent  tone,  so 
characteristic  of  English  and  American  travelers,  the  di- 
rect road  to  Rue  de  la  Paix.  "I  shall  tell  monsieur  when 
he  has  the  kindness  to  remove  his  hat ;  he  has  not  observed 
that  madame  is  present."  Who  could  paint  the  amazed 
look,  the  suppressed  rage,  as  he  retreated,  muttering 
curses.  He  was  evidently  new  to  Paris,  and  took  as  a 
personal  insult  this  expression  of  the  general  sentiment 
of  the  nation ;  nor  the  quiet  contempt  of  the  Frenchman, 
as  he  turned  to  resume  his  conversation  with  his  wife, 
remarking,  "Que  ces  Anglais  sont  betes" 

There  are  not  many  fine  stores  in  Paris;  the  Bon 
Marche  is  the  most  attractive.  It  has  the  largest  kitchen 
in  the  world.  It  provides  food  for  all  its  employees,  of 
which  there  are  400.  The  smallest  kettle  used  holds  75 
quarts;  the  largest,  375.  There  are  50  frying-pans,  each 
of  which  is  capable  of  holding  306  cutlets  at  a  time ;  8,000 
eggs  are  used  every  morning,  and  750  quarts  of  coffee 
daily.  There  are  60  cooks,  and  100  boys  are  employed 
in  the  kitchen. 

The  first  thing  that  engages  the  attention  of  vistors  to 
Paris  is  the  many  splendid  public  buildings  with  which  it 
abounds.  The  freedom  and  access  to  these,  with  all  their 
treasures  of  art,  furnishes  a  most  agreeable  contrast  to 
the  surly  and  avaricious  spirit  exhibited  in  England  and 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES   VISITED.  2IQ 

Italy.  Before  the  visitor  can  enter  St.  Paul's,  in  London, 
he  must  pay  a  fee  to  the  verger ;  and  before  he  is  through, 
the  expense  will  be  nearly  a  dollar.  At  the  Pantheon,  in 
Paris,  which  occupies  a  similar  position  as  St.  Paul's  in 
London,  one  can  ascend  to  the  top  of  the  dome,  and  have 
a  magnificent  view  of  the  whole  city  without  paying  a 
cent.  All  the  grand  and  historic  churches  are  open  daily. 
They  abound,  as  in  all  Roman  Catholic  countries,  in  side 
chapels,  dedicated  to  the  Virgin  Mary  and  to  the  saints; 
and  in  each  of  them  the  shrines  are  decorated  with  various 
paintings,  and  works  of  art  in  gold  and  silver.  In  many 
of  them  the  stained-glass  windows  are  of  the  most  gor- 
geous description,  especially  in  the  Church  of  St.  Ger- 
main 1'Auxerrois,  every  window  of  which  was  completely 
filled  with  the  most  beautiful  colored  glass.  In  addition 
to  the  riches  displayed  in  the  chapels  and  the  works  of  art, 
pictorial  and  sculptured,  they  are  adorned  with  a  profusion 
of  polished  marble  of  various  colors.  Nowhere  is  there 
any  evidence  of  the  fee  system. 

The  civic  buildings  are  equally  accessible.  I  passed 
through  the  whole  of  the  splendid  suite  of  apartments  in 
the  Hotel  de  Ville,  the  scene  of  many  memorable  events ; 
the  noble  galleries  and  rooms  in  the  palace  of  the  Louvre, 
which  contain  the  largest  and  costliest  pictures  in  the 
world;  the  Jar  din  des  Plantes,  which  contains  immense 
conservatories;  and  museums, in  which  the  rarest  treasures 
of  science  are  stored,  including  the  whole  of  the  works  of 
Cuvier, — without  any  charge  of  admittance.  The  public 
buildings  of  Paris  far  exceed  in  magnitude  and  in  splendor 
all  those  that  I  have  ever  seen  in  other  countries. 

Whether  from  policy  or  ostentation,  the  past  rulers  of 
France  have  gratified  the  passion  of  the  people  for  such 
things,  and  taught  them  to  identify  themselves  with  the 


220  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

public  monuments  and  institutions  of  the  nation.  Per- 
haps much  of  this  has  arisen  from  the  social  and  out-door 
habits  of  the  French.  They  are  eminently  a  gregarious 
race.  Home,  in  the  American  sense,  seems  unknown  to 
them.  They  sleep  in  their  dormitories,  but  no  more.  The 
cafe  and  the  restaurant  supply  them  with  all  their  meals. 
Out  of  this  again  arises  that  universal  politeness  which  is 
so  marked  a  feature  of  French  national  character.  Accus- 
tomed to  associate  so  much  in  public,  all  classes  insensibly 
acquire  the  habit  of  making  themselves  agreeable,  and 
hence  those  easy,  self-possessed  manners  which  can  only 
be  acquired  by  such  intercourse. 

Bohemia  occupies  a  small  space  upon  the  map,  and 
must  occupy  a  correspondingly  small  space  within  the 
covers  of  this  book;  for,  not  being  acquainted  with  the 
Bohemian  language,  I  could  not  gather  as  much  infor- 
mation about  the  customs  and  people,  in  my  hasty  trip 
through  the  country,  as  I  would  have  liked.  The  popula- 
tion is  mixed,  consisting  of  Italians,  Tyrolese,  Illyrians, 
Hungarians,  and  Poles.  I  lingered  the  longest  about 
Prague,  remembering  it  was  the  home  of  John  Huss,  the 
reformer. 

Vienna,  or  Wien  as  the  natives  call  it,  delighted  me. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  cities  in  Europe,  and  con- 
tains the  finest  architecture  I  have  seen  anywhere.  The 
streets  are  wide,  smoothly  paved,  and  cleanly  kept.  The 
Ringstrasse  was  formerly  occupied  by  the  fortifications 
of  the  inner  town;  but  during  Franz  Josef's  reign  these 
have  been  removed,  and  there  now  extends  about  the  city 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  streets  in  the  world.  The  Rath- 
haus,  Parliament  buildings,  two  monstrous  monumental 
museums,  picture-galleries,  imperial  palace,  and  many 


OTHER   COUNTRIES  AND   CITIES    VISITED.  221 

other  grand  structures,  face  on  this  street.  I  was  asked  if 
I  did  not  wish  to  go  through  the  Rath-haus.  I  thought 
of  all  the  marble  stairs  I  had  climbed,  the  wonderful  curi- 
osities marveled  at,  the  old,  old  pictures  admired,  the 
statues  looked  at,  the  palaces  visited,  and  I  said,  uNo !" 
I  looked  at  the  immense  building,  covering  acres  and 
acres  of  ground,  and  the  thought  of  having  to  travel  all 
through  it  appalled  me.  One  can  have  a  surfeit,  even  of 
grandeur,  sometimes. 

There  are  many  hist9rical  churches  in  Vienna.  The 
Augustinian  contains  the  mortuary  statuary  for  the  tomb 
of  Maria  Christina,  by  Canova.  In  the  chapel  adjoining 
the  church,  the  hearts  of  deceased  members  of  the  royal 
family  are  preserved  in  silver  urns.  The  Votive  Church 
was  begun  in  1856,  in  remembrance  of  Franz  Josef's  es- 
cape from  assassination  in  1853.  The  chimes  of  this 
church  make  indescribably  sweet  music.  I  was  passing 
one  day  as  the  funeral  cortege  of  a  young  girl  was  passing 
out,  and  I  think  I  never  listened  to  sweeter  music  than 
that  which  came  from  the  chimes,  tender  and  sad,  an  em- 
blem of  the  deep  heart  tragedy  that  had  just  been  ended. 
I  lingered  long  in  St.  Stephen's,  one  day,  watching  the 
worshipers  as  they  came  and  went.  There  were  some 
half-burned  candles  on  the  table  near  a  statue  of  the  Vir- 
gin and  Child.  One  by  one  the  people  came  in  groups 
of  a  dozen  or  more,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  repeat- 
ing prayers,  or  leaning  over  the  railing  to  kiss  the  hands 
of  the  Virgin,  or  reaching  out  a  handkerchief  or  little 
dress,  or  a  tiny  pair  of  shoes,  with  which  to  touch  the 
image.  Their  faith  was  great,  and  they  went  away  with 
a  lighter  step  and  brighter  faces,  feeling  that  the  mere 
touching  of  the  garment  of  the  carved  image,  or  kissing 


222  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

the  marble  hands,  would  put  health  into  a  weak  body  or 
bring  peace  to  a  wounded  heart.  It  was  in  this  church 
that  thanks  were  rendered  up  to  Heaven  for  the  victory  of 
Sobieski  over  the  Turks.  His  personal  prowess  was  su- 
perb, and  he  is  the  most  commanding  figure  in  Polish 
history.  He  contributed  the  soldier's  part  to  sustain  the 
grandeur  and  the  glory  of  his  noble  Poland,  a  country 
which  in  all  ages  had  made  many  struggles  for  freedom. 


Chapter  XIII. 

A    VISIT    TO    THE    PASSION    PI^AY   AT    OBERAM. 
MERGAU  IN  1890. 

FOR    years    I    had    read    of    the  Passion    Play,    and 
had    longed    to    visit    the    very    spot,    and    witness 
with  my  own  eyes  and  hear  with  my  own  ears  the  ren- 
dition of  this  most  sacred  of  all  the  dramatic  representa- 
tions of  Christ. 

I  had  been  interrogating  tourists  who  stopped  from 
time  to  time  at  my  hotel  in  Milan,  and  who  had  already 
attended  one  of  the  bi-weekly  representations  of  the  play, 
regarding  their  opinion  of  it.  There  was  but  one  reply, 
" Grand,  inspiring,  alone  worth  a  trip  across  the  Atlantic." 
As  my  daughter  and  I  were  then  contemplating  a  brief 
visit  to  the  United  States,  we  decided  to  take  a  steamer 
at  Antwerp,  going  thither  by  way  of  Munich,  whence  we 
could  easily  reach  the  scene  of  the  play  within  a  few  hours. 
We  started  from  Milan,  one  day,  about  the  middle  of 
August ;  thence  going  to  Venice,  which  we  reached  after 
a  five  hours'  ride.  The  route  from  Venice  to  Frankfort- 
on-the-Main  lay  through  the  Tyrolese  Alps,  whose  chalk- 
like  and  rocky  summits  looked  hot  and  repellent  under 
the  burning  August  sun.  There  was  only  a  short  stop  at 
Frankfort,  where  there  is  one  of  the  finest  railway  sta- 
tions I  saw  in  Europe.  We  descended  from  the  cars  at 
Munich  with  a  sigh  of  relief;  for  the  blazing  sun  beating 
down  upon  the  low,  sandy  soil  for  hours  before  we  had 
reached  the  city  had  been  reflected  through  the  windows 

223 


224  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

of  our  little,  crowded  compartment,  and  had  made  us 
long  for  the  cool  seclusion  of  a  German  gasthaus. 

We  started  for  Ammergau  that  evening,  a  pleasant 
California  lady,  who,  by  some  mischance,  had  failed  to 
meet  her  friends,  asking  to  share  our  compartment  with 
us.  Ammergau  was  reached  about  midnight.  We  had 
thought  we  would  be  obliged  to  remain  there  until  morn- 
ing; but  seeing  a  rickety  stage-coach  about  to  depart  for 
somewhere,  we  found  upon  inquiry  that  its  destination 
was  Oberammergau,  the  little  village  nestled  down  among 
the  Bavarian  Alps,  and  some  three  miles  away.  The  coach 
was  dark,  and  we  had  not  the  least  idea  who  our  fellow- 
travelers  were.  Occasional  bits  of  conversation,  however, 
revealed  to  us  that  we  had  with  us  Herr  High-priest 
Ananias,  one  of  the  chief  actors  in  the  play;  a  Russian 
lady,  who  spoke  English  with  an  enviable  correctness; 
several  of  the  villagers,  who  had  been  to  Munich  laying 
in  a  stock  of  supplies  for  the  unlooked-for  rush  of  visitors ; 
one  or  two  army  officers,  and  a  priest.  There  was  an 
old  German  householder,  also,  lying  back  in  the  farthest 
corner.  After  jolting  along  for  a  while,  the  passengers 
became  drowsy,  and  the  desultory  conversation  ceased 
altogether.  It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the  German,  po- 
litely apologizing  to  the  "Damen,"  struck  a  match  to 
light  his  pipe.  The  sight  that  this  revealed  aroused  the 
sleepy  passengers  to  full  consciousness.  The  old  priest, 
fat  and  well-preserved,  was  snoring  rhythmically,  with  his 
head  resting  gently  on  the  California  lady's  shoulder.  It 
was  a  revelation  to  her,  also,  and  she  gave  it  a  push  to  the 
other  side.  The  tired  head  rolled  around  aimlessly  for 
a  while,  and  at  last  fell  back  contentedly  into  its  first  po- 
sition. All  laughed  aloud  at  this  point,  the  lady  herself 


THE  PASSION  PLAY  AT  OBERAMMERGAU.  22$ 

joining  in;  but  it  was  not  until  she  moved  to  the  other 
side  of  the  coach  that  the  priest  awoke. 

We  reached  Oberammergau  about  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  As  we  were  set  down  in  the  little  square  of 
the  village,  a  flood  of  moonlight  broke  out  from  among 
the  clouds,  and  lighted  up  the  whole  place  with  a  silvery 
sheen,  showing  the  red-roofed  houses,  with  their  walls 
painted  over  quaintly  with  Biblical  representations,  and 
making  it  seem  as  if  we  had  been  dropped  down  suddenly 
into  some  toy  city. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  place  are  wood-carvers,  and 
pass  away  their  simple  lives  in  this  occupation  from  gener- 
ation to  generation.  The  Miracle  Play  is  given  by  them 
every  ten  years,  in  fulfillment  of  a  vow  made  over  two 
centuries  ago,  in  return  for  their  deliverance  from  a  plague 
which  was  devastating  the  surrounding  country.  Seven 
hundred  of  the  fifteen  hundred  inhabitants  pass  nine 
months  of  every  tenth  year  in  rehearsing  their  parts;  for 
although  there  are  only  five  hundred  actors,  two  hundred 
more  are  drilled  for  substitutes.  The  performances  are 
given  twice  a  week,  for  the  three  summer  months,  in  an 
immense  amphitheater,  capable  of  holding  thousands  of 
people.  For  two  centuries  the  play  was  given  regularly, 
without  attracting  the  attention  of  travelers;  but  in  the 
year  1850,  Dean  Mil  man,  of  London,  and  in  1860,  Dean 
Stanley,  of  the  same  city,  visited  the  play,  and  wrote  such 
glowing  accounts  of  this  marvelous  performance  in  the 
Bavarian  highlands  that  since  then  visitors  from  all  parts 
of  the  world  flock  there  by  thousands.  In  1870  the  Jewish 
musical  critic,  Aronson,  made  a  critical  study  of  the  play, 
and  pronounced  the  musical  features  of  it  to  be  unsur- 
passed. In  the  same  year  it  was  visited  by  Edwin  Booth, 
15 


226  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

who  said  that  he  had  never  known  what  acting  was  until 
he  beheld  it  here  in  its  perfection.  The  people  show  rare 
artistic  cultivation,  combined  with  perfect  simplicity. 
They  have  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  show- 
ing a  wonderful  familiarity  with  every  act  of  our  Lord's 
life.  They  have  no  master  in  the  art  of  acting  except  the 
parish  priest. 

We  thought  for  a  while  that  we  might  be  obliged  to 
pass  the  rest  of  the  night  here  on  the  village  square,  as  I 
had  made  no  arrangements  before  leaving  Milan  for  lodg- 
ings and  tickets,  which  are  supposed  to  be  arranged  for 
weeks  in  advance.  However,  the  good  Bavarian,  Ana- 
nias, took  pity  on  us,  found  lodgings  with  a  friend  for  my 
daughter  and  the  California  lady,  and  took  me  to  his  own 
home,  where  he  was  obliged  to  give  me  his  bed,  as  the 
house  was  crowded. 

I  was  sleeping  soundly  when  the  great  cannon  boomed 
at  five  o'clock  the  next  morning,  announcing  the  hour 
of  prayer  for  the  villagers.  I  had  scarcely  dropped  to 
sleep  again  when  a  band  passed  through  the  town,  calling 
the  people  to  some  other  act  of  devotion.  I  finally  gave 
it  up  altogether,  arose,  dressed,  and  went  to  seek  my 
daughter  and  her  companion,  and  find  some  hospitable 
board  where  we  might  get  breakfast.  As  I  had  not  seen 
where  my  friend  had  taken  them  the  night  before,  and 
as  there  were  thousands  of  strangers  in  the  village,  it  was 
no  easy  task  to  find  two  answering  exactly  to  their  de- 
scription. Finally,  after  climbing  to  the  top  of  an  out- 
side staircase,  and  pushing  open  the  door  which  I  found 
there,  I  came  upon  the  objects  of  my  quest,  sleeping 
peacefully  on  the  top  of  a  high  German  bed,  which  they 
had  evidently  had  to  reach  by  means  of  a  chair ;  for  there 
was  one  standing  near  by.  It  was  then  almost  eight 


THE  PASSION  PLAY  AT  OBERAMMERGAU.  227 

o'clock,  the  time  for  the  play  to  begin,  and  we  did  not 
even  have  our  entrance  tickets.  I  had  been  hearing 
stories  from  complacent  tourists,  who  had  their  tickets, 
about  people  who  had  been  obliged  to  remain  over  from 
one  representation  to  the  other,  a  space  of  two  or  three 
days,  all  because  they  had  not  procured  tickets  several 
days  in  advance.  It  did  not  add  to  my  peace  of  mind 
to  realize  that  the  ladies  had  yet  to  make  their  toilets 
before  we  could  even  go  to  seek  the  burgomeister,  who 
alone  was  said  to  have  the  power  of  disbursing  tickets. 
By  a  happy  coincidence,  the  visit  to  this  mighty  poten- 
tate of  the  village  was  dispensed  with.  My  kind  friend, 
the  High-priest  Ananias,  again  came  to  my  rescue.  Some 
of  his  expected  guests,  for  whom  he  had  reserved  tickets, 
had  not  come,  and  their  tickets  were  at  our  disposal. 
Thus  armed,  and  after  getting  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll 
at  the  gasthaus,  we  made  our  way  to  the  amphitheater, 
whither  crowds  were  already  hastening  in  response  to  the 
beating  of  a  drum.  The  booming  of  a  cannon  announces 
the  beginning  of  the  play.  It  continues  from  eight  until 
twelve,  and  recommences  at  one,  continuing  until  four. 
Our  seats  proved  to  be  under  cover,  upon  which  we  con- 
gratulated ourselves  a  few  hours  later,  when  the  rain 
began  to  come  down  gently,  and  the  people  on  the  lower 
seats,  which  occupy  at  least  one-half  the  amphitheater, 
were  obliged  to  sit  under  dripping  umbrellas,  or  leave  the 
place  altogether,  as  many  of  them  did.  The  immense 
stage  also  is  nearly  all  uncovered,  and  it  was  curious  to 
observe  with  what  stolid  indifference  and  apparent  ab- 
sorption in  their  parts  the  players  continued  the  repre- 
sentation, with  the  rain  beating  down  in  their  faces  and 
dripping  from  their  clothes. 
.  I  shall  ever  bear  in  memory  the  magnificent  panorama 


228  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS, 

which  spread  out  before  our  gaze,  as  we  sat  there  listen- 
ing to  these  simple  peasants  chanting  the  chorus  which 
precedes  every  act.  Immediately  in  front  of  us  a  sea  of 
heads,  people  from  all  parts  of  the  world;  a  little  beyond, 
the  crude  stage;  and  in  the  near  background  a  succession 
of  rolling  hills,  whose  green  rivaled  the  emerald;  cattle 
grazing  peacefully  here  and  there,  and  a  solitary  peasant, 
scythe  in  hand,  mowing  fresh  grass  for  his  herds,  seem- 
ingly oblivious  of  the  absorbing  drama  that  was  taking 
place  down  below. 

I  will  not  describe  the  play  in  detail;  it  has  already 
been  done  so  often.  The  chief  character  was  taken  this 
time,  as  in  1870  and  1880,  by  Joseph  Meyer,  a  pale-faced, 
spiritual-looking  man,  who  copies,  in  so  far  as  he  is  able, 
in  personal  appearance  and  dress,  the  accepted  por- 
traits of  our  Lord.  He  went  through  his  part  with 
an  intense  earnestness,  which  reconciled  the  observer,  if 
such  a  thing  be  possible,  to  the  assumption  of  this  sacred 
character  by  any  human  creature.  Each  act  is  preceded 
by  a  chant  from  the  choir,  who  file  in  in  green  mantles 
and  golden  crowns,  and  shadow  forth  in  their  sweet  but 
generally  sad  strains  the  tragic  events  which  are  about  to 
take  place.  There  are  also  interspersed  many  tableaus, 
representing  prominent  events  recorded  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. 

The  First  Act  is  Christ's  Entry  into  Jerusalem.  He 
weeps  over  Jerusalem's  desolation,  and  bewails  the  fate 
of  her  children :  "Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep  not  for 
me,  but  for  yourselves  and  your  children."  This  is  ren- 
dered with  exquisite  pathos,  and  the  refrain  "Jerusalem" 
rings  in  your  ears,  now  rising  in  tones  of  anguished  warn- 
ing, now  dying-  in  a  wail  of  despair.  There  was  a  sacred 


JOSEPH  MEYER,  AS  CHRIST. 


THE  PASSION  PLAY  AT  OBERAMMERGAU.  22$ 

hush,  fraught  with  profound  reverence,  through  this,  as 
well  as  through  nearly  all  the  other  acts. 

Act  II  represents  Christ  at  Bethany.  After  the  tur- 
moil and  excitement  of  the  city  he  retires  to  the  peaceful 
quiet  of  the  homes  of  Mary  and  Martha. 

Act  V  is  a  celebration  of  the  Last  Supper.  This  is  an 
exact  representation  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci's  famous  paint- 
ing, and  is  one  of  the  most  faithful  and  most  impressive 
ones  of  the  play. 

Act  VII  represents  Christ  in  the  Garden  of  Geth- 
semane,  where  the  majestic  sufferer  bows  beneath  the 
great  olives,  and  pours  out  his  soul  in  agony.  An  angel 
is  sent  with  a  golden  censer  to  comfort  him. 

In  Act  IX,  Christ  is  brought  before  Caiaphas.  Here 
he  is  found  guilty.  The  disciples,  so  bold  and  confident, 
now  resort  to  cowardly  flight.  All  forsook  him  and  fled. 

Act  X  shows  the  despair  of  Judas.  The  betrayer  does 
not  seem  the  hardened  criminal  that  the  pictures  repre- 
sent him,  but  a  man  of  the  world.  He  appears  now  to  be 
full  of  remorse.  When  he  looks  into  the  innocent  face 
of  Christ,  he  flings  the  bag  upon  the  ground,  exclaiming, 
"He  was  such  a  good  man !" 

Act  XI,  Christ  before  Pilate,  is  a  thrilling  one.  Pilate, 
after  a  thorough  examination,  exclaims,  "I  find  no  fault 
in  this  just  man!"  then  sends  him  away  to  Herod,  who 
delivers  him  to  the  brutal  soldiers.  Never  can  the  spec- 
tator forget  the  lofty  scorn  and  the  deep  loathing  with 
which  Pilate  looks  upon  the  enemies  of  Christ. 

Act  XV  was  greeted  by  sobs  and  cries  of  absolute 
pain  from  all  over  the  amphitheater.  It  represented 
Christ  bearing  his  cross.  Nothing  can  be  more  heart- 
rending than  the  Holy  Man  taking  up  his  cross,  and  bear- 


230  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

ing  it  upon  his  shoulders,  the  blood  streaming  from  every 
part  of  his  sacred  body,  until  Simon  appears  and  relieves 
him  of  the  terrible  burden. 

In  Act  XVI,  the  Crucifixion,  the  climax  is  reached] 
All  nature  harmonizes  with  the  dark  deed.  The  heavens 
assume  a  somber  color ;  soon  the  whole  sky  is  black !  The 
two  thieves  are  placed  on  their  crosses,  and  Christ  in  the 
midst  towers  above  all  others, — Jesus  in  the  midst !  Has 
he  not  always  been  there? — there  in  eternity,  before  he 
made  the  journey  of  a  God  from  the  splendors  of  a  throne 
to  earth;  and  is  he  not  now  the  Lamb  slain  in  the  midst 
of  the  throne?  O  my  soul,  I  can  hear  the  heavy  strokes 
of  the  hammer  as  they  drive  the  nails  into  those  feet  which 
never  wearied  in  errands  of  mercy,  and  those  hands  which 
were  stretched  out  over  Jerusalem's  lost  opportunities! 
I  watched  him  there,  and  though  I  had  read  the  great 
French  and  Italian  preachers'  sermons  upon  the  Passion, 
nothing  moved  me  like  this !  Theirs  was  acting,  but  this 
was  the  real  scene.  "O  Lamb  of  God,  was  ever  pain,  was 
ever  love  like  this?"  What  a  marvelous  change  in  the 
physical  appearance  of  the  Divine  Victim !  The  face  that 
was  white  and  lifelike,  now  black !  The  neck,  which  had 
been  white  and  smooth,  now  showed  the  veins  swollen 
and  blue!  Edmund  Burke,  in  that  most  perfect  of  his 
eloquent  descriptions,  describes  Marie  Antoinette  as  hav- 
ing her  whole  being  changed  by  suffering.  She  enters 
the  prison  with  hair  like  a  raven;  a  single  night  makes 
it  white  as  snow.  A  more  wonderful  and  heart-rending 
change  took  place  in  this  Christ  figure  upon  the  cross 
before  the  very  eyes  of  the  spectators.  Cries  of  horror 
and  pity  broke  from  their  lips,  and  so  intense  was  the 
emotion  for  a  few  seconds  that  it  seemed  almost  as  if  a 
panic  would  ensue. 


THE  PASSION  PLAY  AT,   OBERAMMERGAU.  231 

The  succeeding  act,  the  Descent  from  the  Gross,  is  an 
exact  copy  of  Rubens' s  celebrated  picture  in  Antwerp. 
The  executioners,  with  indecent  haste,  rush  forward;  but 
Nicodemus  shows  an  order  from  Pilate,  giving  him  full 
authority  to  take  charge  of  the  body.  Two  ladders  are 
placed,  one  in  front,  one  in  the  rear  of  the  cross.  The 
crown  of  thorns  is  removed  and  given  to  a  servant.  The 
nails  are  then  extracted,  and  the  dead  Christ  is  taken 
down  and  laid  upon  the  ground,  where  he  is  covered  with 
a  clean  white  linen  cloth,  and  the  blood  is  washed  from 
the  hands,  from  the  temples,  and  from  the  feet.  Now  he 
is  buried  amid  the  sweet  budding  foliage  of  spring.  The 
"funeral  was  unostentatious.  Behold  the  place  where  they 
laid  him!  Rich  odors  are  shed  there.  Behold  it  in  your 
tears,  ye  who  sorrow  for  loved  ones !  The  third  day  the 
good  women  come  to  anoint  the  body,  and  their  ears  are 
anointed  with  the  most  fragrant  tidings  that  ever  fell  from 
heaven  to  earth :  "He  is  not  here,  he  is  risen !"  The  gloom 
gives  place  to  joy!  The  performers  now  put  on  white 
garments,  and  as  the  limestone  rocks  of  Judea  crack  and 
explode  with  the  glory  of  the  risen  Christ,  all  exclaim, 
"The  Lord  is  risen !  The  Lord  is  risen!"  There  is  not  a 
line  of  departure  from  the  Gospel  narrative.  The  clear 
and  thrilling  tones  of  the  Christus  is  heard,  "I  am  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Life !"  O  Jesus,  I  have  often  gazed 
on  thee  in  admiration,  but  never  so  much  as  when  thou 
didst  declare  thyself  by  the  sublime  title,  "I  am  the  Resur- 
rection and  the  Life!"  demonstrating  thy  divinity  over 
death  and  the  grave.  I  felt  myself  involuntarily  repeating 
the  hymn  of  Watts : 

"  Say,  Live  forever,  wondrous  King, 

Born  to  redeem  and  strong  to  save ! 
Then  ask  the  monster,  Where  's  thy  sting! 
And,  Where  's  thy  victory,  boasting  Grave !" 


232  .    UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

I  have  never  heard  anything  to  approach  the  dra- 
matic power  of  these  performers.  Says  the  good  priest, 
Father  Daiserberg,  of  Oberammergau :  "It  is  not  our  aim 
to  shine  in  the  art  of  acting;  that  would  be  ridiculous  in 
country  folk.  But  it  must  be  the  earnest  desire  of  each 
one  to  represent  worthily  this  Holy  Mystery.  As  the 
apostles  taught  men  by  their  holy  conversation,  so  must 
we  endeavor,  if  our  work  is  to  be  blessed  to  the  hearts  of 
men,  to  show  by  our  Christlike  conduct  the  salutary 
effect  produced  upon  our  souls." 

That  is  it !  It  is  more  than  acting !  It  is  devotion  in 
its  most  spiritualized  and  sublimated  form! 

The  succeeding  acts — The  Burial  of  Christ,  The  Res- 
urrection and  Christ's  Ascension,  making  twenty  in  all — 
although  grand  in  conception  and  almost  perfect  in  exe- 
cution, were  received  with  strange  apathy.  The  people 
had  spent  their  emotion  in  the  supreme  Act  of  the  Cruci- 
fixion. 

Few  words  were  exchanged  that  evening  in  the  beau- 
tiful drive  back  to  Ammergau,  with  the  enchanting  green 
of  the  mountains  before  our  eyes,  and  the  noise  of  the 
waterfalls  soft  and  soothing  in  our  ears.  The  great  trag- 
edy which  had  just  passed  before  us  was  a  real  one,  and 
it  was  long  ere  we  could  throw  off  the  magic  influence, 
and  think  of  the  actors  therein  as  simple  Bavarian  peas- 
ants, who  were  giving  this  Miracle  Play  in  fulfillment  of 
a  pious  vow. 


Chapter  XIV. 

CAMPAIGN    EXPERIENCES— MEN    KNOWN    IN 
POLITICAL  LIFE  AND   OTHER  BYWAYS. 

A3  a  minister  of  the  gospel  I  have  always  claimed  the 
right  to  tell  my  sentiments  upon  the  questions  in 
which  the  righteousness  and  the  prosperity  of  the  Re- 
public are  profoundly  interested.  Every  four  years  I 
have  made  campaign  speeches  to  the  electors,  assuring 
them  that  they  would  stand  immeasurably  higher  as  Chris- 
tians if  they  took  some  interest  in  the  political  affairs  of 
this  country.  Their  lips  ought  not  to  be  padlocked  wher- 
ever and  whenever  bribery  and  corruption  are  to  be  ex- 
posed, the  great  cause  of  Temperance  to  be  vindicated, 
and  the  stability  and  prosperity  of  the  Republic  are  to  be 
promoted. 

I  spoke  these  sentiments  in  1861,  when  our  majestic 
eagle  wavered  in  his  flight,  and  the  stars  upon  our  banner 
began  to  lose  their  luster.  I  spoke  them  again  when 
Grant  was  triumphantly  chosen  as  the  Chief  Magistrate 
of  the  Nation.  I  spoke  in  all  the  subsequent  Presidential 
elections,  except  one  during  which  I  was  absent  from 
the  country.  And  I  also  believe  that  hereafter  more  min- 
isters will  take  time  from  their  pulpits  to  spend  in  this 
way;  not  dragging  partisan  politics  into  their  pulpits, 
which  I  never  did,  but  preaching  upon  the  lines  laid  down 
by  the  prophet,  "Righteousness  exalteth  a  nation." 
Those  words  of  Byron's  are  true  and  noble : 

"  Freedom's  battle,  once  begun, 
Bequeathed  from  bleeding  sire  to  son, 
Though  baffled  oft,  is  ever  won." 
233 


234  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Is  it  possible  that  when  a  patriotic  government  or  a 
municipality  is  doing  its  best  to  promote  morality  and 
decent  administration  of  affairs,  that  ministers  of  the 
gospel  can  be  silent?  Are  they  too  much  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  heavens,  that  they  have  no  time  to 
take  some  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  millions  upon  the 
earth?  A  story  is  told  of  a  scholar  who,  when  the  whole 
Nation  was  startled  by  the  fall  of  Fort  Sumter,  said  to 
his  friends,  "What  do  I  care?  I  must  finish  my  gram- 
mar." I  have  heard  the  utterances  of  certain  bishops, 
boasting  that  they  "never  had  voted."  Such  men  should 
never  preach  the  gospel  to  me.  They  are  not  indoctri- 
nated with  the  principles  of  the  Bible  upon  their  duties  in 
civil  life.  I  maintain  that  we  have  not  been  doing  our  duty 
in  regard  to  politics  and  civil  government.  You  may  tell 
me,  indeed,  that  ministers  of  the  gospel  should  not  be 
politicians.  I  have  no  politics  aside  from  Christianity. 
I  can  say  with  the  Covenanters,  "My  politics  is  my  Bible." 

A  national  campaign  is  one  of  the  trials  of  democ- 
racy. It  has  been  questioned  whether  seventy  millions 
could  peacefully  carry  out  their  respective  political  creeds 
without  the  Nation  suffering  serious  disaster.  But  the 
calmness,  the  decorum,  and  the  readiness  with  which  the 
defeated  parties  accept  the  results,  demonstrate  the  sagac- 
ity of  our  system.  There  are  many  popular  fallacies  about 
elections.  Among  them  a  common  one  is,  that  all  the 
speakers  and  managers  are  supplied  with  money  to  buy 
votes.  "Money!"  cries  the  bankrupt,  while  he  listens 
to  the  harangue.  "Help  us  to  pay  off  our  indebtedness." 
"Money !"  cries  the  beggar,  who  believes  that  a  political 
campaign  is  a  pyramid  of  wealth.  "Money!"  demands 
the  idler,  while  he  buries  his  hands  in  his  empty  pockets ; 
and  the  mechanic  out  of  work  takes  up  the  dismal  chorus. 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  235 

When  I  was  speaking  at  a  town  in  Southern  Illinois, 
during  the  campaign  of  1896,  a  Democratic  wag  reported 
in  advance  that  I  had  a  valise  full  of  silver,  which  Mr. 
Hanna  gave  me  to  pay  off  all  mortgages.  When  I  ar- 
rived at  the  depot,  there  were  hundreds  of  colored  people 
waiting  my  arrival.  One  powerful  fellow  seized  my 
satchel,  exclaiming :  "It  is  true !  There  is  so  much  money 
here  that  I  can  not  lift  it  up/'  For  hours  I  was  pestered 
with  appeals,  and  I  was  confidentially  informed  that  the 
applicants  would  never  tell  how  much  they  got. 

There  is  no  fallacy  more  common  than  that  all  the 
active  campaigners  are  office-seekers.  This  may  be  true 
of  a  few,  but  not  of  the  great  majority.  The  usual  class 
of  office-seekers  are  not  the  men  selected  for  their  abil- 
ities, or  from  the  hard-working  men  who  carry  elections. 
For  the  most  part,  they  are  party  hacks,  who  help  to  elect 
senators  and  congressmen,  who  form  a  company  or  a 
clique.  The  life  of  a  man  of  this  class,  as  has  been  truth- 
fully said,  must  be  a  life  of  drudgery.  He  dares  not  de- 
clare his  independent  opinion  on  any  question.  He  dares 
not  answer  a  plain  question  plainly,  lest  his  answer  should 
be  remembered. 

Another  very  common  fallacy,  the  constant  reiter- 
ation of  speakers  of  all  parties,  is,  that  if  the  opposite 
party  succeeds  the  country  is  ruined;  that  all  the  pros- 
perity and  morality  will  disappear  if  the  opposite  candi- 
date is  elected ;  that  the  platform  of  his  party  was  made  in 
heaven;  that  America  is  on  the  brink  of  a  deadly  gulf. 
The  Republic,  the  foundations  of  which  have  been  laid 
on  the  heights  that  overlook  the  Bay  of  Charleston,  laid 
deep  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  laid  firmly  in  the 
-wooded  hills  of  Vermont— the  Republic,  these  opposing 


236  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

orators  tell  us,  if  Free  Trade  or  Protection  succeeds,  will 
split  from  base  to  battlement. 

The  most  noted  clergyman  in  the  United  States  tells 
how,  when  he  was  a  boy,  he  went  to  hear  a  famous  polit- 
ical orator,  who,  pointing  his  index  finger  at  him,  thun- 
dered out,  "If  Mr.  Harrison  is  elected,  that  boy  will  grow 
no  taller."  He  went  home  crying,  and  told  his  father  not 
to  vote  for  Harrison.  Twenty  years  after,  the  boy, 
grown  up,  heard  the  same  political  orator  declare  the 
same  thing  if  Lincoln  were  elected. 

These  political  campaigns  are  educational  factors,  and 
leave  a  softening,  humanizing  influence  behind  them. 
There  is  always  a  patient  investigation  and  a  desire  to 
ascertain  the  facts.  Upon  all  such  contests  as  those  of 
1844  and  1 86 1  the  American  looks  back  with  pride.  He 
remembers  the  rush  of  noble  words  and  the  bright  play 
of  Henry  Clay's  speech.  Bryce,  the  Irish  author  of  the 
"American  Commonwealth,"  the  best  book  ever  written 
by  a  foreigner  on  American  institutions,  says:  "The 
American  is  keen  and  shrewd.  His  passion  seldom  ob- 
scures his  reason.  He  keeps  his  head  during  these  ex- 
citements, when  a  German  or  a  Frenchman  would  lose 
his."  The  political  election,  in  which  two  men  are  pitted 
against  one  another  in  a  four  months'  campaign  for  the 
great  prize,  stirs  the  blood  like  any  other  trial  of  strength 
and  speed. 

The  campaign  every  four  years  teaches  the  responsi- 
bilities that  are  offered  to  the  young  men  of  the  land.  In 
no  other  country  is  there  such  an  opportunity.  The 
American  people  do  not  ask,  "What  was  your  father?" 
but,  "Who  are  you?"  Thomas  Jefferson's  test  is  the 
thing,  after  all,  for  a  candidate:  "Is  he  honest?  Is  he  ca- 
pable?" Let  the  young  man,  the  intelligent,  adventurous, 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  237 

and  gallant,  take  heart !  Lord  Morpeth,  after  visiting 
our  schools,  was  asked  what  he  thought  of  them.  His 
answer  was,  "Every  boy  who  spoke  expects  to  be  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States." 

The  campaign  inculcates  the  value  of  enthusiasm. 
The  incidents  and  picturesque  surrounding  of  the  crowds 
form  a  copious  theme  to  excite  earnestness.  The  orators 
become  aroused  when  they  quote  extracts  from  other 
candidates'  speeches — extracts  that  will  supersede.  De- 
mosthenes against  ^Eschines,  Rienzi  against  the  nobles, 
Pitt  retorting  on  Walpole,  and  Webster  in  reply  to  Hayne. 
Charles  James  Fox  declared  that  a  man  without  enthusi- 
asm never  succeeds.  The  great  transactions  of  history, 
the  fight  at  Marathon,  the  death  of  Caesar,  the  sublime 
episodes  of  the  Swiss  crags,  the  storm  which  hurled  the 
thrones  of  the  Bourbons  into  destruction,  the  eternal  ring 
of  the  bell  at  Philadelphia  proclaiming  the  rights  of  man 
throughout  the  world,  were  not  accomplished  without 
enthusiasm. 

The  campaign  inspires  candidates  with  the  necessity 
of'having  spotless  records.  As  soon  as  a  man  is  nomi- 
nated, every  obscure  paper  in  the  country  begins  the 
everlasting  search  for  his  history.  The  challenge  is  sent 
forth,  the  trumpet  is  sounded,  and  the  bitter  and  humili- 
ating events  of  the  man's  life  are  gone  over.  The  candi- 
date is  the  public  property  of  the  Nation.  The  day  of  his 
nomination  it  might  be  written  over  his  door,  as  over  "the 
churches  in  Paris,  "La  propriete  nationale."  ("The  na- 
tional property.")  Everything  is  noted  and  exaggerated. 
Should  he  take  a  trip,  it  is  telegraphed.  If  a  Hoosier 
comes  along  and  slaps  him  on  the  back,  he  must  submit. 
A  skulking  shadow  everywhere  pursues  him.  If  his  child 
upbraid  him  or  his  wife  abscond,  the  spies  are  ready  to 


238  .  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

publish  it  to  the  world.  Expostulate  with  these  burglars 
as  they  tear  the  roof  off  his  house,  and  they  answer:  "It 
is  all  right!  He  is  a  public  man,  and  a  candidate  for 
office,  and  the  people  want  to  hear  all  about  him."  This 
was  especially  the  case  with  James  G.  Elaine.  He  was 
followed  to  Europe,  his  steps  were  dogged  everywhere. 
His  dentist  in  Milan  told  me  that  when  the  great  states- 
man came  to  his  office,  a  spy  was  just  behind  him,  and  even 
the  office  was  invaded  and  questions  asked  about  Elaine's 
health  and  teeth. 

Again,  a  political  campaign  is  a  spectacle  of  grandeur. 
It  is  really  a  great  thing  when  seventy  millions  of  people 
are  interested.  As  our  admirer,  Bryce,  puts  it:  "The 
scene  of  immensity,  and  the  belief  that  the  same  thoughts 
and  purposes  are  animating  millions  of  other  people  in 
sympathy  with  himself,  lifts  a  man  out  of  himself,  and 
sends  him  into  transports  of  eagerness  and  zeal." 

The  first  campaign  in  which  I  took  part  was  for  the 
election  of  Grant,  in  1868.  I  was  then  a  chaplain  in  the 
regular  army.  The  speech  was  delivered  in  the  Public 
Square,  Cleveland,  Ohio.  I  afterwards  addressed  the  peo- 
ple of  North  Carolina,  visiting  every  county  in  the  State. 

The  next  campaign  in  which  I  took  an  active  part 
was  a  memorable  one,  the  contest  for  the  election  of 
James  G.  Elaine,  in  1884.  The  reason  for  my  interest  in 
Mr.  Elaine  arose  from  an  incident  which  took  place  in 
Ireland  a  few  years  before.  I  was  visiting  the  home  of 
my  childhood,  and,  in  response  to  old  friends,  delivered 
an  address  upon  America  and  Americans  at  Pepper's 
Cross-roads.  During  the  delivery  of  the  lecture,  I  com- 
pared America's  Presidents  with  the  English  Kings, 
American  Queens  with  those  of  England. 

The  next  day  two  policemen  came  to  my  mother-in- 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  239 

law's  house,  asking  if  Rev.  George  W.  Pepper  was  there. 
My  wife  responded,  "Yes,"  with  a  touch  of  indignation. 
They  requested  that  I  should  take  a  walk  with  them  to  the 
nearest  station,  Gilford.  I  knew  what  that  meant,  eigh- 
teen months'  imprisonment,  without  a  trial;  for  the  Cur- 
few Law  was  then  in  force.  I  remonstrated,  but  in  vain, 
until  I  pulled  out  my  passport,  which  I  flaunted  in  their 
faces,  saying,  "If  you  arrest  me,  I  will  cable  James  G. 
Elaine,  the  Secretary  of  State,  whose  name  is  there,  and  in 
forty-eight  hours  he  will. hold  your  British  Ambassador 
responsible!"  Quickly  they  changed  their  actions,  and 
cravenly  apologized.  Elaine's  name  carried  terror  as 
well  as  influence  with  it.  I  said  then  to  my  wife,  "If 
Elaine  is  ever  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency  I  will  take 
the  stump  for  him." 

The  next  year  I  delivered  the  Fourth  of  July  speech 
in  Mansfield.  John  Sherman  presided.  He  had  given 
land  enough  to  build  a  beautiful  park  for  the  city,  and 
this  patriotic  occasion  was  the  dedication  of  the  grounds. 
I  repeated  the  incident  in  my  address;  it  got  into  the 
papers,  so  that  when  Elaine  was  nominated  I  was  invited 
to  deliver  the  first  speech  in  New  York.  The  audience 
was  very  large,  and  I  had  some  fears.  At  the  Astor  House 
a  reporter  for  one  of  the  newspapers,  whom  I  had  known 
in  the  army,  Mr.  Doyle,  called  to  give  advice.  He  was 
anxious  to  know  if  I  could  sing  an  Irish  song.  I  an- 
swered, "No,  nor  a  Methodist !  I  do  not  even  know  one 
tune  from  another."  "Well,  then,  you  will  find  it  un- 
popular to  deliver  your  speech.  A  rousing  Irish  song 
might  quiet  them  for  some  time,  and  give  you  a  chance. 
But  Republican  speeches  to  Irish  audiences  never  suc- 
ceeded here.  General  Benjamin  F.  Butler  tried  it,  and 
failed."  From  the  first  sentence,  "I  am  here  to-night  to 


240  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

bind  with  a  shamrock  wreath  the  brow  of  the  grand  old 
party  with  which  the  proudest  and  grandest  recollections 
of  the  country  have  been  associated  for  thirty  years ;  the 
party  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  of  Grant,  and  of  its  noblest 
living  representative,  James  G.  Elaine,  its  standard-bearer 
in  this  campaign,"  cheers  began  in  all  parts  of  the  hall 
and  lasted  for  several  minutes.  Somebody — I  think  it  was 
Hawley  or  Elkins — came  up  and  whispered  in  my  ear, 
"You  have  got  them." 

The  next  morning  I  was  invited  to  visit  the  National 
Headquarters,  where  I  became  acquainted  with  the  man- 
agers and  several  of  the  leading  Republicans  of  the  coun- 
try. I  met  Mr.  B.  F.  Jones,  Mr.  Elaine's  chairman,  a 
prominent  iron  manufacturer  of  Pittsburg,  an  honest  and 
respected  gentleman  of  the  old  school,  conscientious  and 
sincere  in  his  politics  as  in  his  business.  I  met  also  Mr. 
J.  S.  Clarkson,  whose  unflagging  zeal,  untiring  activity, 
and  enthusiastic  application  for  twenty  years  of  laborious 
service  were  developed  and  matured  in  the  service  of  his 
party.  It  does  not  detract  from  the  glory  of  others  to  say 
that  Clarkson's  pluck  and  determination  were  always  in 
the  lead. 

I  delivered  my  first  speeches  in  Maine — in  Bangor, 
Portland,  L,ewiston,  and  Saco.  Before  commencing,  it  was 
deemed  advisable  to  have  an  interview  with  Mr.  Blaine, 
at  Bar  Harbor.  I  remember  an  incident  which  occurred 
in  a  town  of  Maine.  I  had  ridden  forty  miles  from  Calais, 
and  put  up  for  the  night  at  a  quaint  old  town.  Arriving 
at  the  hotel,  "Stranger,"  said  the  proprietor,  "you  are  in 
the  best  town  in  the  world.  Think  of  it !  There  has  never 
been  a  saloon  here,  nor  a  jail,  nor  a  Democrat,  nor  a  trial, 
nor  a  Catholic,  nor  a  Methodist!" 

After  doing  Maine,  I  was  sent  to  Massachusetts,  the 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  241 

land  of  Mugwumps,  where  I  spent  two  weeks,  speaking 
in  all  the  principal  cities.  It  was  in  a  carriage  on  the  way 
to  Faneuil  Hall  that  I  met  a  man  who  has  recently  gained 
much  celebrity  in  the  war  with  Spain  as  colonel  of  the 
Rough  Riders,  Theodore  Roosevelt,  and  Senator  Henry 
Cabot  Lodge.  The  order  of  speeches  was  discussed. 
Lodge  was  to  give  the  history  of  the  party ;  Roosevelt  ta 
talk  to  the  Mugwumps,  and  to  show  that  civil  service  had 
a  better  showing  with  Republicans ;  and  I  to  address  my- 
self to  the  veterans.  Senator  Lodge  made  a  lucid  and 
unanswerable  speech,  showing  himself  to  be  a  scholar  and 
a  fine  speaker.  Roosevelt  attained  high  distinction  dur- 
ing that  campaign. 

At  Quincy  I  was  billed  to  speak  with  Colonel  Slack, 
the  collector  of  the  port  of  Boston  and  editor  of  the  Com- 
monwealth. He  spoke  first,  and  notwithstanding  that  he 
was  frequently  interrupted  by  the  leading  Prohibitionists 
of  the  State,  he  made  a  telling  and  convincing  speech. 
I  never  heard  his  equal  in  answering  questions.  I  fol- 
lowed him.  Some  one  cried  out,  "Three  cheers  for  Elaine 
and  Logan!"  which  were  given  with  enthusiasm.  Then 
some  politician  of  the  other  party  cried  out,  "Three  cheers 

for  h 1 !"    "That 's  right !"  quickly  responded  Colonel 

Slack,  "every  one  should  cheer  for  his  own  country!" 
After  leaving  Massachusetts,  I  spoke  in  Indiana,  Michi- 
gan, Illinois. 

In  the  Harrison  campaign  of  1888  I  was  engaged  for 
many  weeks,  and  here  I  met  Senator  M.  S.  Quay  and  the 
indefatigable  Clarkson.  Quay  was  an  adroit,  skillful 
leader,  priming  himself  upon  being  more  than  a  match 
for  Tammany.  It  was  not  omnipotent  when  it  confronted 
Quay.  I  spoke  fourteen  nights  in  the  city  to  the  most 
disorderly  crowds  I  ever  saw.  The  Goths  were  refined. 

16 


242  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

in  comparison  with  these  mobs.  At  one  place,  supposed 
to  be  the  wickedest  and  most  dangerous  of  the  city,  a 
meeting  was  arranged,  the  first  Republican  meeting  ever 
held  there.  The  Democrats  having  failed  to  break  up  the 
meeting,  resorted  to  a  new  device ;  at  a  given  signal  some 
roughs  in  the  outskirts  would  toss  into  the  air  bundles  of 
paper  pellets,  which  fell  upon  the  speaker  like  white  flakes 
of  snow;  the  crowd  would  then  send  up  a  yell.  General 
Dennis  Burke,  the  gallant  commander  of  the  Irish  Bri- 
gade, tried  and  had  to  give  it  up. 

At  last  a  West  Virginian,  whose  name  I  have  forgot- 
ten, commenced.  The  same  game  was  started.  Finally 
the  West  Virginian  suddenly  exclaimed,  with  an  oath, 
"My  father  was  killed  and  my  brother  was  wounded  in 
the  war,  and  I,  too,  was  a  soldier.  I  fought  for  free 
speech  as  well  as  for  the  Union!"  and  lifting  up  some- 
thing that  looked  like  a  revolver,  "and  I  swear  that  the 
first  ruffian  who  throws  up  one  of  those  paper  pellets,  I 
will  give  him  the  contents  of  this !"  The  rascals  fled,  and 
he  spoke  for  an  hour  without  interruption,  other  than 
•cheers.  It  was  a  cigar-case,  not  a  pistol,  that  he  held  in 
his  hand.  It  was  a  great  success, 

I  next  was  sent  to  Indiana,  where  I  met  John  C.  New, 
a  stanch  Republican,  a  cool  and  forecasting  man,  who 
knew  the  politics  of  his  State  better  than  any  other  poli- 
tician. 

Once  more  was  the  McKinley  campaign,  in  1896.  I 
had  known  the  Major  by  reputation ;  but  the  first  time  I 
ever  saw  him  was  in  Augusta,  Maine.  He  was  making 
speeches,  and  I  think  was  on  his  way  to  see  the  Plumed 
Knight.  I  was  impressed  with  his  evident  sincerity  and 
his  unselfishness.  What  a  change  position  makes  in  the 
•number  of  a  man's  friends!  I  remember  one  of  the  last 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  243 

times  I  saw  him,  after  the  temporary  reaction  against  his 
tariff  bill,  he  was  on  his  way  to  Lorain  to  make  a  speech. 
I  was  going  further  to  deliver  a  lecture.  There  was  not 
a  man  in  the  depot  to  see  him  off,  nor  one  who  accom- 
panied him.  Now  there  would  be  thousands,  with  bands 
of  music  and  flying  colors.  The  same  McKinley,  the  same 
quiet,  Christian  gentleman;  but  there  is  the  Presidency, 
with  its  offices.  I  delivered  an  address  in  behalf  of  the 
soldiers  when  he  was  the  candidate  for  this  high  office. 
He  was  full  of  compliments.  "It  was  beautiful !  It  was 
beautiful!"  he  said. 

Receiving  an  earnest  request  from  Colonel  Hahn,  the 
chairman  of  the  Speakers'  Department,  I  accepted  his 
invitation,  and  departed  immediately  for  Chicago.  I 
made  my  first  speech  in  the  stockyards  to  a  thousand  or 
more  men  with  mugs  of  beer  in  their  hands — it  was  the 
noon  hour — cheering  for  Bryan  and  more  money.  It  was 
the  oddest  crowd  I  ever  beheld.  They  raved  like  maniacs. 
While  I  was  trying  to  speak,  a  gentleman  stood  behind 
me  who  was  there  purposely  to  protect  me,  in  case  the 
mob  should  make  an  attack.  He  had  previously  advised 
me  to  lay  aside  the  silk  hat  I  was  wearing,  as  it  would 
probaby  be  a  target  for  their  missiles. 

Hurrying  into  the  carriage,  we  drove  to  another  stock- 
yard meeting,  which  was  orderly,  respectful,  and  appre- 
ciative. The  chairman  was  a  Gold  Democrat.  The  same 
night  I  addressed  an  audience  in  the  hotel  in  which  Mr. 
Hedges  was  stopping.  It  was  full  and  enthusiastic.  The 
next  day  I  made  a  speech  at  twelve  o'clock  to  the  busi- 
ness men.  It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten,  that  im- 
mense crowd  of  eager  and  hopeful  men. 

I  was  sent  from  there  to  Kansas,  where  I  addressed 
meetings  at  Topeka,  Lawrence,  and  St.  Mary's.  At  the 


244  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

latter  place,  among  the  Reception  Committee,  was  the 
Hon.  James  W.  Fitzgerald,  formerly  of  Cincinnati,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Ohio  Legislature,  and  the  best  Police  Court 
judge  that  Cincinnati  ever  had.  He  was  such  a  terror  to 
evil-doers  that  they  shot  at  him.  He  was  a  Democrat  in 
Kansas,  and  was  running  for  the  Legislature ;  but  that  did 
not  chill  his  interest  in  an  old  friend.  He  has  since  died. 
A  more  stainless  knight  never  drew  a  sword.  A  good 
and  true  man. 

I  also  met  in  Topeka  my  old  friend,  John  Mulvane, 
formerly  of  Ohio,  a  banker  and  an  honored  citizen.  He 
wields  a  powerful  influence  in  Topeka. 

Next,  I  was  directed  to  spend  several  weeks  in  Illinois. 
Mound  City  was  my  headquarters;  from  there  I  visited 
all  the  neighboring  towns,  speaking  frequently  in  halls, 
old  shops,  churches,  and  in  the  open  air,  twice  a  day  regu- 
larly, and  occasionally  three  times.  After  the  night 
speech,  I  would  ride  sixteen  miles,  accompanied  by  a  band 
of  singers.  At  one  place  the  hotel  had  just  burned  down. 
A  Republican  of  the  town  told  me  that  he  had  no  place 
for  me  to  sleep,  but  could  give  me  my  supper.  I  looked 
into  one  of  his  rooms,  it  was  full  of  old  muskets.  At  night 
he  introduced  me  to  a  judge  as  a  preacher,  and  asked  for 
lodging,  as  I  was  the  speaker  of  the  evening.  The  family 
were  eating  supper.  "All  right,  let  me  hear  you  ask  a 
blessing."  I  did  so.  He  was  satisfied  that  I  was  a 
minister. 

The  last  State  was  Missouri.  It  seems  to  me  that 
there  is  no  richer  State  than  this  in  the  Union.  The  min- 
eral and  other  resources  are  incalculable;  all  it  wants  is 
enterprise.  I  see  it  overflowing  with  opulence  and  wealth, 
noble  cities  arising  where  only  a  few  years  ago  were  scat- 
tered villages,  excelling  in  magnificence  and  beauty  the 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  245 

oldest  cities  of  Europe.  I  heard  the  clink  of  the  shuttle 
and  the  music  of  the  anvil  where,  a  few  years  ago  only, 
resounded  the  clash  of  the  tomahawk. 

The  meeting  in  St.  Louis  was  a  grand  assemblage;  it 
was  the  business  men's  daily  gathering.  Here,  in  the  very 
center  of  traffic,  thousands  gathered  to  hear  Speaker 
Thomas  B.  Reed,  and  to  accredit  and  to  sanctify  the  peo- 
ple's choice,  William  McKinley.  I  would  not  follow 
Reed,  so  I  made  the  first  speech.  It  was  well  received. 
Reed  proved  himself,  tnough  his  voice  was  hoarse,  an 
accomplished  master,  and  won  repeated  applause.  The 
next  night  I  spoke  twice,  Judge  Noble,  a  prominent  citi- 
zen, preceding  me  at  one  of  the  meetings.  The  second 
was  composed  of  Union  and  Confederate  soldiers.  There 
were  over  eleven  hundred  in  the  club.  Four  hundred 
were  ex-Confederates,  but  all  were  now  for  honest  money 
and  Republicanism. 

Among  the  good  and  worthy  men  whom  I  met  in  St. 
Louis  were  Messrs.  A.  H.  EiJers  and  — —  Drosten,  a  rich 
and  partiotic  jeweler.  Mr.  Eilers  was  my  fellow  voyager 
across  the  sea  in  the  Fuerst  Bismarck!  He  has  an  inter- 
esting history.  Brought  up  a  bigoted  Lutheran  in  Wiscon- 
sin, he  was  constantly  warned  never  to  attend  a  Methodist 
church,  as  he  would  be  sure  to  become  a  Republican! 
As  a  boy  he  made  his  way  to  St.  Louis  in  the  early 
sixties,  when  the  war  fever  was  at  its  height.  He  heard 
Hiram  Cox,  of  precious  memory,  sing  Union  songs  upon 
the  streets.  He  was  fascinated,  and  followed  him  to  dear 
old  Union  Church,  covered  with  flags.  He  was  at  home, 
and  said,  "Thy  people  shall  be  my  people."  In  Ger- 
many, the  land  of  his  fathers,  where  he  was  recently,  he 
found  thousands  of  the  people  who  believed  Colonel  Cody 
and  McKinley  were  brothers,  from  the  similarity  of  their 


246  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

names— "Buffalo  Bill  and  McKinley  Bill."  At  a  German 
fair  he  saw  an  immense  hog  in  a  fancy  chariot,  with  two 
large-sized  portraits  of  McKinley  and  Cody,  with  the 
flaming  inscriptions  conspicuous,  "The  two  great  broth- 
ers, Buffalo  Bill  and  McKinley  Bill."  It  was  the  actual 
belief  of  many  that  they  belonged  to  the  same  family. 
Colonel  Cody  got  a  cool  reception  in  many  quarters  be- 
cause of  his  alleged  relationship  to  McKinley.  The  tariff 
measure  was  very  unpopular  in  Germany,  and  I  was  not 
surprised  at  the  reply  of  a  German  manufacturer  from 
Crefeldt,  who  lay  groaning  in  the  berth  above  me  on  a 
steamship  while  crossing  the  ocean.  I  asked  him  what 
was  the  matter,  and  he  muttered,  "It  is  either  seasickness 
or  the  McKinley  Bill,  I  do  n't  know  which." 

The  next  morning  we  started  through  Missouri  in  Mr. 
R.  C.  Kerens's  private  car.  At  all  the  principal  towns, 
"Reed!  Reed!"  was  the  cry;  but  as  his  voice  was  weak 
he  did  not  respond.  I  tried  to  supply  his  place.  This 
part  of  the  State-^-its  soft  and  verdant  valleys,  its  fertile 
and  level  plains,  its  magnificent  rivers — aroused  the  ad- 
miration of  all  in  the  car.  Mr.  Hitchcock,  our  present 
ambassador  to  Russia,  was  one  of  the  party. 

I  reported,  according  to  instructions,  at  Clinton,  the 
home  of  the  Republican  candidate  for  governor,  Robert 
E.  Lewis.  There  I  was  met  by  Mr.  Mitchell,  the  brave 
and  fearless  editor,  and  by  the  genial  Haynie,  a  lawyer  of 
ability.  Lewis  was  very  popular  here.  Amid  a  furious 
storm  of  bigotry  and  opposition,  he  has  stood  unmoved 
and  undismayed.  His  intrepidity  and  courage  are  every- 
where praised. 

I  spoke  at  Windsor,  at  Rich  Hill,  Warrensburg,  and 
other  places.  The  counties  visited  were  Henry,  Cass, 
Johnson,  Bates,  Cedar,  and  St.  Clair.  In  all  these  cities 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  247 

and  towns  I  met  hundreds  of  Ohioans.  At  Warrensburg 
there  was  Herrick,  Logan;  at  Windsor,  George  W. 
Schwer,  the  present  postmaster,  and  the  editor  of  the 
Republican.  At  Rich  Hill,  I  was  delightfully  entertained 
by  a  stanch  and  respected  merchant,  Mr.  Kellogg,  now 
collector  of  internal  revenue  at  Kansas  City,  a  splendid 
gentleman;  also  others — Martin,  Judge  Huckaby,  Hon. 
J.  R.  Hales.  There  were  no  interruptions,  such  as  those 
at  Chicago. 

But  the  greatest  of  all  the  meetings  was  held  at  Clin- 
ton, two  days  before  the  election.  Nobly  did  the  spirited 
Republicans  turn  out  in  their  thousands  to  mark  their  high 
sense  of  the  great  services  of  their  candidate  for  governor. 
I  spoke,  as  one  of  the  dispatches  said,  to  twenty  thousand 
people,  after  which  I  left  immediately,  as  I  must  reach 
home  in  time  to  vote.  While  waiting  at  the  depot  here, 
an  Irishman,  who  had  ridden  thirty  miles  to  hear  me,  came 
up  to  me  and  said,  "I  do  n't  know  McKinley ;  but  I  do 
know  that  he  has  a  mighty  smart  woman  for  a  wife — 
Hanna!" 

I  can  not  sufficiently  express  my  admiration  of  Mr. 
Richard  C.  Kerens's  management  of  the  work  in  his  State. 
His  powerful  help,  his  persuasive  manners,  and  his  tact, 
drew  applause  from  all. 

The  great  Cooper  Institute  demonstration  in  1884, 
to  which  reference  has  been  made  in  the  preceding  para- 
graphs, calls  for  more  than  ordinary  remark.  The  Insti- 
tute was  filled,  as  one  three  times  its  size  would  have  been 
filled,  with  an  assemblage  of  New  York's  best  citizens. 
There  were,  side  by  side,  thousands  of  patriotic  mechanics 
and  merchants,  the  active  business  man,  and  the  retired 
capitalist.  The  platform  was  crowded  with  the  best  men 
of  all  parties,  who  had  come  to  do  homage  to  the  gallant 


248  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

standard-bearer  of  the  Republicans.  The  walls  were  hung 
with  the  portraits  of  the  illustrious  leaders  of  the  Repub- 
licans. There  was  Lincoln,  his  face  indicating  that  his 
whole  soul  was  filled  with  the  love  of  liberty,  upon  whose 
ears  the  sounds  of  freedom  fell  with  sweeter  tones  than  the 
song  of  birds  in  early  spring;  there  were  the  pictures  of 
Grant,  of  Sherman,  of  Sumner,  of  Wilson,  of  Wade. 

The  opening  remarks  of  the  president,  Patrick  Ford, 
were  delivered  with  a  fervor  and  a  modesty  worthy  of  his 
name  and  fame.  His  nephew,  Austin  Ford,  who  was  gen- 
eral manager,  received  an  ovation  when  he  appeared  to 
introduce  his  uncle  as  chairman. 

The  first  speech  was  delivered  by  a  Methodist  clergy- 
man from  Ohio,  the  author  of  these  reminiscences.  Hon. 
Judge  John  Brennan,  of  Iowa,  had  a  grand  theme,  and 
he  handled  with  masterly  skill  the  Cobden  Club  and  its 
designs  upon  America.  He  nobly  vindicated  the  doctrine 
of  protection.  This  speech  was  clear,  strong,  to  the  point, 
and  conclusive,  and  will  stand  all  the  artillery  which  the 
Free-traders  can  discharge  against  it.  He  was  afterwards 
engaged  in  the  campaign,  speaking  mostly  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  where  his  trenchant,  sledge-hammer  argu- 
ments and  overflowing  wit  won  thousands  of  votes  for  the 
Republicans. 

The  next  speaker  was  Hon.  Thomas  P.  Barry,  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Illinois  Legislature.  The  speech  was  vivid  as  a 
picture,  bristling  with  facts,  clear  in  its  details,  full  of  the 
most  direct  and  cogent  arguments.  Mr.  Barry  laid  bare 
with  a  bold  and  strong  hand  the  disease  of  the  labor  de- 
pression and  its  remedy.  His  address  was  timely  and  bold, 
forcible  and  solid,  and  worthy  of  his  reputation.  His  self- 
possession,  clearness  of  statement,  his  quickness  in  an- 


CAMPAIGN  EXPERIENCES.  249 

swering  questions,  make  him  a  favorite  speaker  on  all 
occasions. 

Henry  Gary  Baird,  the  grandson  of 'Matthew  Gary, 
the  champion  of  American  protection  fifty  years  ago,  was 
the  next  speaker.  His  speech  was  profoundly  statistical. 
In  the  higher  elements  of  oratory  he  is  deficient,  prefer- 
ring the  more  solid  matter  to  the  more  graphic  and  at- 
tractive elements  of  speech. 

Captain  O'Meagher  Condon  was  introduced  as  an 
Irish  patriot,  an  American  .soldier  in  the  Civil  War,  a  hero 
who  received  the  honor  of  a  sentence  of  death  in  London 
for  his  Irish  sympathies,  and  who  uttered  the  brave  words 
upon  the  verge  of  the  scaffold,  "God  save  Ireland !"  The 
feeling  of  the  audience  rose  to  an  immense  state  of  excite- 
ment during  the  delivery  of  this  able  address.  Captain 
Condon,  in  whose  features  glowed  the  proud  conscious- 
ness that  before  the  high  trbunal  which  adjudged  him  to 
death,  he  had  done  his  duty,  stood  before  that  vast  audi- 
ence in  a  manly  and  respectful  attitude,  and  gazed  upon 
the  crowded  multitude  with  calmness  and  composure. 
Political  opponents  and  friends  admired  the  sincerity  with 
which  he  advocated  the  claims  of  his  benefactor,  James  G. 
Elaine.  He  spoke  briefly,  but  clearly,  ably,  and  with  illus- 
trations, telling  as  they  were  happy. 

Such  may  be  a  slight  characterization  of  the  speeches 
spoken  at  this  mighty  gathering.  But  how  shall  we  de- 
scribe its  enthusiasm?  For  four  hours  did  the  people 
listen  without  a  sign  of  impatience ;  and  the  heartiest  of  all 
the  applause  was  when  the  speakers  uttered  the  name  of 
Elaine.  The  proceedings  came  to  a  close  at  twelve  o'clock. 
The  thousands  were  on  their  way  home,  the  streets  were 
hushed,  the  vast  swell  of  human  feeling  had  subsided,  and 
its  echoes  were  heard  no  more. 


250  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

MEN  WORTH  REMEMBERING. 

Mr.  M.  A.  Hanna,  who  was  the  manager  of  McKin- 
ley's  campaign,  is  one  of  the  foremost  of  that  class  of  busi- 
ness men  whose  character  for  substantial  independence, 
honor,  uprightness,  and  industry  is  associated  with  the 
prosperity  of  their  city  and  country.  No  man  contributed 
more  to  the  success  of  his  party  than  this  much-abused 
gentleman.  While  on  the  stump,  it  was  not  so  much 
McKinley  who  had  to  be  defended  as  his  able  and  inde- 
fatigable manager.  His  only  crime  was  that  he  organized 
the  McKinley  forces  into  an  army,  defeated  his  enemies, 
and  gave  the  United  States  a  pride  and  a  hope  which  will 
always  be  proudly  remembered  as  a  white  day  in  the  calen- 
dar of  American  political  statesmanship.  Mark  Hanna 
was  always  for  the  Republican  party.  He  knew  no  de- 
spondency, no  despair ;  these  cowardly  feelings  are  foreign 
to  him.  He  is  liberal  in  his  benefactions ;  the  poor  of  every 
nationality,  race,  and  creed  always  find  his  purse  open. 

As  a  speaker,  Senator  Hanna  is  not  showy,  but  his 
talks  bristle  with  facts.  They  are  clear  in  their  details,  full 
of  the  most  direct  and  cogent  argument.  As  a  public 
man,  many  of  his  friends  who  know  him  think  he  will 
never  live  his  term  out;  that  he  will  not  be  able  to  en- 
dure the  strain  of  the  office-seekers.  It  is  this  eternal 
office-seeking  that  has  killed  so  many  of  our  public  men. 
Jefferson  tells  that  Washington  brought  down  his  hand 
emphatically  on  the  table,  with  the  asseveration,  "I  have 
never  been  sorry  but  once  that  I  accepted  the  Presidency, 
and  that  is  ever  since !"  Senator  Anthony  said,  "that  he 
never  secured  an  office  for  any  beggar  that  he  did  not 
make  half  a  dozen  foes  for  every  friend."  Years  ago, 
Preston  King  accepted  the  office  of  collector  of  New 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  251 

York,  and  greedy  office-seekers  worried  the  life  out  of 
him.  Hopeless  of  relief,  he  plunged  into  the  river  and 
ended  his  days.  So  it  was  with  William  Henry  Har- 
rison. 

Colonel  Chas.  F.  Dick  was  Mr.  Hanna's  most  con- 
spicuous helper.  There  never  was  a  more  devoted,  faith- 
ful, unflinching  adherent  to  McKinley.  Nothing  could 
shake  his  confidence  in  the  apostle  of  protection ;  he  was 
the  particular  star  upon  which  he  looked  with  admiration. 
He  knew  him  well,  and  the  more  he  knew,  the  more  he 
loved  and  honored  him.  There  is  little  about  him  to  pro- 
voke astonishment  or  envy,  but  much  to  deserve  esteem 
and  regard.  The  usefulness  of  his  life,  his  indefatigable 
industry,  high  sense  of  principle,  devotion  to  his  party, 
should  give  him  more  eminence  than  rightfully  belongs 
to  a  whole  throng  of  those  showy  men  who  have  at- 
tracted more  attention  or  dazzled  it  by  the  unprofitable 
splendor  of  their  intellect. 

Colonel  Hahn,  chief  of  the  Speaker's  Bureau,  showed 
great  ability,  courage,  and  knowledge  in  the  assignment 
of  speakers  to  the  various  States.  It  is  a  most  difficult 
and  complicated  office  to  fill.  There  were  obstacles,  un- 
surpassable obstacles,  to  overcome.  He  was  ably  assisted 
by  Mr.  Fletcher.  Colonel  Haskell  was  very  active  and 
effective ;  sixty  thousand  persons  were  introduced  by  him 
to  Mr.  Hanna. 

H.  C.  Hedges  is  a  man  of  unbending  integrity.  All 
the  speakers  came  into  immediate  contact  with  him.  He 
gave  them  letters  of  introduction  to  the  committees  of  the 
localities  where  they  were  assigned.  He  was  their  pay- 
master. Mr.  Hedges  is  an  element  of  pure  goodness. 
He  brought  from  his  retirement,  into  the  wild  and  excit- 
ing agitation  and  collection  of  forces,  a  clear  brain,  and 


252      f         UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

a  heart  in  whose  atmosphere  no  selfishness  could  dwell. 
It  is  the  beauty  of  our  republican  institutions  to  be  har- 
monious, well-balanced,  and  just. 

Governor  Albert  G.  Porter,  who  introduced  me  to 
an  assembly  in  Indianapolis,  at  a  meeting  for  the  relief 
of  Ireland,  was  an  ideal  American,  neat  in  person,  a 
ripe  and  accurate  scholar,  an  accomplished  speaker, 
and  a  model  governor.  He  was  our  minister  to  Italy 
when  I  was  consul  to  Milan.  He  had  recently  prepared 
a  lecture  upon  Gladstone,  and  predicted  with  exulting 
pride  his  subsequent  political  changes.  Admirers  of 
oratory  may  talk  of  their  Beechers,  their  Starr  Kings,  and 
other  celebrities ;  but  Governor  Porter  surpassed  them  all 
in  finished  oratory.  In  structural  arrangement  his  address 
was  perfect. 

At  the  same  meeting  was  Thomas  A.  Hendricks,  Vice- 
President  of  the  United  States.  He  had  a  large  body,  a 
frank  and  smiling  face,  a  good  delivery,  and  above  all  a 
warm  heart.  No  one  ever  charged  Thomas  Hendricks 
with  being  mercenary;  for  he  was  ever  generous.  Differ- 
ing from  him  politically,  and  being  prejudiced,  I  was 
pleasantly  disappointed.  He  was  pure  and  honorable  in 
all  the  relations  of  private  life.  Slander  never  pointed  to 
a  stain  in  his  moral  character.  He  knew  nothing  of  the 
luxury  and  splendor  of  foreign  courts ;  but  he  knew  Indi- 
ana, and  the  people  of  all  parties  respected  him.  He  had 
tremendous  influence  in  determining  elections.  His 
speech,  after  the  regular  lecture,  was  intelligent,  sympa- 
thetic, strong,  and  pathetic. 

General  Grosvenor  is  both  a  soldier  and  a  statesman. 
He  makes  most  telling  speeches.  He  is  the  best  posted 
man  in  the  party.  He  closes  his  speeches  amid  thunders 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  253 

of  applause.  The  same  may  be  said  of  General  R.  P. 
Kennedy. 

Henry  C.  Payne,  of  Wisconsin,  I  have  frequently  met 
in  the  national  campaigns.  He  is  a  medium-sized  man, 
with  a  mind  filled  to  overflowing  with  ideas.  He  is  a  wise 
counselor  and  a  grand  organizer.  There  is  not  a  lazy  bone 
in  his  little  and  wiry  frame.  He  is  the  only  member  of  the 
National  Committee  who  accompanied  me  to  the  meet- 
ings, where  he  watched  the  movements  of  the  crowds. 
He  took  a  personal  interest  in  the  contest,  and  thousands 
of  his  friends  deeply  regretted  that  he  declined  a  Cabinet 
appointment.  He  has  been  a  very  successful  business 
man;  this  ought  not  to  be  a  bar  to  any  good  citizen's 
promotion.  When  General  Grant  appointed  A.  T.  Stew- 
art to  be  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  one  of  the  reasons  he 
gave  for  his  action  was,  that  a  man  who  built  up  such  a 
colossal  establishment  would  carry  the  same  genius  into 
National  affairs. 

In  the  same  State  lives  Senator  John  C.  Spooner,  a 
man  of  most  excellent  mind  and  heart,  whose  political 
ideas  are  tempered  by  philosophy.  In  his  State  his 
speeches  operate  upon  the  masses  like  magic.  In  his  style 
of  speaking  there  is  much  of  the  flash,  and  in  his  elocution 
much  of  the  dash,  that  was  the  great  specialty  of  Elaine. 
When  warmed  with  his  theme  and  with  a  grand  purpose, 
a  soaring  soul,  and  a  large  audience,  Senator  Spooner 
makes  a  great  impression.  When  passing  through  Milan, 
he  called  at  the  office,  and  introducing  me  to  his  friends, 
said,  "This  is  the  man  who  makes  more  votes  for  the 
Republican  party  than  all  of  us." 

R.  C.  Kerens  is  the  leader  of  his  party  in  Missouri, 
and  a  foremost  man  in  all  public  affairs.  His  life  is  full  of 


254  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

picturesque  incidents.  The  first  time  I  met  him  was  on 
the  steps  of  the  White  House.  Elaine  was  coming  out, 
and  I  was  calling  upon  the  President.  He  was  a  great 
favorite  of  Elaine's  and  of  Harrison's.  He  had  then,  as 
now,  the  distribution  of  the  Missouri  patronage.  He  is 
never  more  delighted  than  when  he  is  surrounded  in  his 
princely  home  with  a  host  of  friends.  The  next  time  I  saw 
him  was  during  the  election  of  McKinley.  I  had  been 
five  weeks  assigned  to  the  State  Committee  of  Illinois, 
and  ordered  to  the  southern  part.  I  spoke  frequently 
three  times  a  day,  and  after  the  night  speech  would  ride 
sixteen  or  twenty  miles  to  a  hotel.  I  remember  eating 
at  one  house,  on  one  occasion,  and  then,  as  there  was  no 
room,  going  to  another  to  sleep.  My  strength  was  being 
greatly  overtaxed  when  I  met  Kerens,  in  Chicago,  at  the 
National  Headquarters.  He  looked  at  me  with  a  surprised 
air,  saying,  "You  are  just  the  man  I  want."  I  explained 
to  him  that  I  was  not  through  with  Illinois.  But  he 
procured  my  release  from  that  State,  and  had  me  assigned 
to  Missouri  instead.  He  offered  me  a  seat  in  his  private 
palace  car,  and  thus  I  traveled  through  Missouri,  speaking 
in  St.  Louis  and  several  other  towns,  en  route  to  Spring- 
field with  Thomas  B.  Reed. 

Senator  George  F.  Hoar  is  a  statesman,  endowed 
with  the  highest  qualities,  the  last  of  the  great  men  of  the 
past  who  united  scholarship,  dignity,  and  wisdom  in  his 
political  addresses.  He  is  the  most  conservative  of  the 
Republican  leaders,  conservative  of  the  rights  and  prog- 
ress of  his  party.  The  senator  is  absolutely  free  from  re- 
ligious bigotry.  He  believes,  with  Thomas  Jefferson, 
that  it  matters  not  to  him  whether  a  man  believes  in  one 
God  or  a  thousand,  provided  he  does  not  steal  his  purse. 
He  does  not  believe  in  the  promotion  of  one  class  at  the 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  255 

expense  or  the  degradation  of  another.     He  is  a  disciple 
of  John  Boyle  O'Reilly: 

"  Races  and  sects  were  to  him  a  profanity — 

Hindoo,  Saxon,  and  Celt  were  as  one  ; 
Large  as  mankind  was  his  splendid  humanity, 
Large  in  its  record  as  the  work  he  has  done." 

He  also  did  me  the  honor  to  call  upon  me.  He  was 
on  his  way  to  Turin  to  see  Kossuth.  He  talked  of  old 
times — of  Elaine,  of  the  campaign  of  that  memorable  year. 
He  spoke  kindly  of  O'Reilly,  and  his  successor,  James 
Jeffrey  Roche.  As  he  was  on  his  way  to  see  the  illustrious 
Hungarian,  I  told  him  the  following  incident,  which 
pleased  him  greatly:  "The  Turkish  Pasha  dined  with 
Kossuth,  and  gave  the  following  toast:  'There  was  once 
a  gold  vase  of  the  most  beautiful  kind,  but  two  stones  fell 
upon  and  cruslied  it.  It  lost  its  form,  but  still  remained 
gold,  whilst  the  shapeless  rocks  were  still  only  rocks. 
Kossuth  is  the  golden  vase  which  the  rocks  of  Austria  and 
Russia  have  tried  to  crush,  but  could  not,  and  which  will 
regain  its  pristine  form  and  grace  on  the  impressionable 
page  of  history/  ' 

President  Hayes  I  had  known  for  years;  but  never 
could  appreciate  the  man  until  I  met  him  at  the  dedica- 
tion of  the  soldiers'  monument  in  Ashland,  Ohio,  the 
gift  of  a  noble  lady,  Mrs.  Jonas  Freer.  Two  companies 
of  his  regiment  were  raised  there,  and  it  was  easy  to  ac- 
count for  his  popularity  when  he  saluted  each  of  the  boys 
by  his  Christan  name— "Milt,"  "Ott,"  "Arthur,"  etc.  At 
Kenyon  College,  where  I  had  been  a  student  a  year  or 
two  afterwards,  he  worked  steadily  at  his  studies.  His 
companions  were  ardent  spirits,  among  whom  were  bril- 
liant Harry  Winter  Davis,  of  Maryland,  and  Judge  David 
Davis,  of  Illinois. 


256  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Charles  Foster,  governor  of  Ohio,  congressman,  and 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury, — all  his  speeches  are  models  of 
a  high  grade  of  political  morality.  Of  medium  stature, 
a  quick  and  lively  imagination,  and  a  warm  heart,  Charles 
Foster  is  one  of  the  talkers  whom  everybody  wishes  to 
hear.  He  speaks  the  language  of  the  common  people; 
they  have  not  to  carry  dictionaries  to  make  out  his  mean- 
ing. I  heard  him  upon  the  currency,  and,  speaking  of  the 
greenback,  he  said  "it  was  easy  to  carry,"  and,  suiting  the 
action  to  the  word,  he  quickly  took  off  his  necktie, 
wrapped  a  lot  of  greenbacks  in  it  neatly,  folded  it,  and 
replaced  it  upon  his  neck,  adding,  "I  can  carry  that 
through  the  world  and  nobody  will  know  it."  Cheer  upon 
cheer  greeted  the  illustration. 

President  Benjamin  Harrison  needs  no  praise;  his  Ad- 
ministration will  forever  remain  a  permanent  monument 
of  the  prosperity  of  this  great  Nation.  His  addresses  to 
the  delegations  which  called  upon  him  at  Indianapolis  are 
a  storehouse  of  political  wisdom.  His  speeches  contain 
noble  appeals  to  all  that  is  grand  and  patriotic  in  the 
heart.  They  can  be  quoted  by  the  soldier,  arming  for 
battle,  as  well  as  by  the  student  in  his  seclusion.  I  vis- 
ited him  after  I  was  through  with  campaign  work  in  New 
York.  He  was  anxious  to  know  what  the  prospects  there 
were.  I  gave  him  this  instance:  In  Leroy,  Conkling's 
bailiwick,  where  Elaine  lost  nearly  four  hundred  votes, — 
that  little  place  would  increase  its  vote  four  hundred  for 
Harrison.  He  was  surprised  and  pleased.  I  told  him  also 
the  methods  which  were  used  by  the  stump  orators — the 
State  ticket  was  not  to  be  criticised ;  so  the  people  would 
cheer  alternately  for  Harrison  and  Hill. 

SENATOR  M.  S.  QUAY. — As  a  leader  of  men,  Senator 
Quay  stands  unequaled.  He  was  the  manager  of  the  Har- 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  257 

rison  campaign.  Of  how  he  discharged  the  onerous  and 
most  responsible  duties  which  thereon  devolved  upon  him 
is  well  known  to  the  country.  But  we  should  feel  it  a 
deep  dereliction  of  that  just  debt  of  gratitude  which  his 
services  to  his  party  should  command  were  we  not  to 
express  admiration  for  the  skill  and  tremendous  energy 
displayed  in  the  election  of  Harrison.  His  census  of  New 
York  itself  was  a  miracle.  He  knew  exactly  by  this 
enumeration  how  many  voting  people  were  in  the  city, 
and  upon  the  day  of  election  thousands  of  fraudulent 
voters  were  challenged,  and  asked  how  long  they  had 
lived  in  New  York.  When  Quay,  consulting  the  census, 
would  reply,  "Your  name  is  not  here,"  the  imported 
frauds  were  not  permitted  to  vote.  Quay  made  it  the 
duty  of  the  speakers  in  New  York  to  report  every  morn- 
ing. I  spoke  fourteen  times,  and  complied  with  this 
order.  He  was  very  reticent;  like  Bismarck,  he  knew 
how  to  keep  silent  in  fifteen  different  languages. 

SENATOR  FRYE. — I  met  Senator  W.  P.  Frye,  of 
Maine,  frequently  during  the  campaign  of  1884,  and  spoke 
with  him  at  different  places.  The  senator  is  lithe,  active, 
and  as  wary  as  a  sportsman.  As  an  off-hand  speaker,  I 
think  he  is  the  most  effective  I  have  ever  heard.  He  is 
full  of  resources,  full  of  figures,  full  of  patriotism.  His 
mastery  of  popular  speech  is  very  remarkable,  and  in  no 
country  of  the  world  does  popular  oratory  count  for  so 
much  as  in  the  United  States. 

At  Newark,  Ohio,  we  were  both  billed  to  speak  in 
the  Blaine  campaign.  I  made  an  effort  to  deliver  the 
first  speech,  as  I  did  not  wish  to  follow  so  distinguished 
a  speaker.  The  audience  was  largely  composed  of  wool- 
growers.  Frye  took  in  the  situation.  The  first  words  he 
uttered  caught  and  captured  them.  They  were,  "Sheep !" 
17 


258  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

"sheep !"  "sheep !"  It  was  a  spell-word.  As  he  proceeded, 
the  enthusiasm  became  contagious,  the'  crowd  cheered 
time  and  again.  Frye  was  in  his  happiest  vein.  His  coun- 
tenance was  striking,  and  his  words  fairly  leaped  over  one 
another.  Fit  subject  was  he  for  the  pencil  of  an  artist. 

The  meeting  adjourned,  and  the  scene  that  followed 
was  one  of  triumph.  Bright  banners  waved  over  his  head, 
and  bright  flowers  were  strewn  along  his  way  to  the 
hotel.  Cheers  for  Elaine  and  Logan  rent  the  air,  and  the 
result  was  seen  when,  in  that  Democratic  county,  a  ma- 
jority of  1,500  was  given  to  the  Republican  party. 

SENATOR  STEPHEN  B.  ELKINS. — I  became  well  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Elkins  during  the  Blaine  campaign. 
He  was  an  enthusiastic  supporter  of  the  Maine  states- 
man, and  put  forth  all  his  efforts  to  elect  his  favorite. 
The  day  after  I  made  the  first  speech  in  that  campaign, 
he  sent  for  me  to  come  to  the  national  headquarters,  and 
requested  earnestly  that  I  should  take  the  stump. 

Elkins  has  become  rich.  He  is  a  strong  man — strong 
in  will,  strong  in  resources,  and  strong  in  determination. 
His  character  is  like  his  eloquence,  rapid,  spontaneous, 
vigorous,  realizing  a  poet's  ideal  man.  "There  are  two 
things  which  fashion  their  own  channel — the  strong  man 
and  the  waterfall."  He  makes  a  good  speech — compact, 
brief,  dwelling  upon  statutes.  He  tells  few  anecdotes,  and 
relies  principally  for  effect  upon  convincing  logic,  clear 
statement,  and  evident  sincerity. 

JOHN  WANAMAKER. — I  became  acquainted  with  this 
gentleman  in  the  recommendation  of  an  old  soldier  for 
a  post-office.  The  Postmaster-General  immediately  said 
to  his  secretary,  "Go  to  the  letter-case,  and  get  the  rec- 
ommendation for  Mr.  ."  I  told  him  he  had  no 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  259 

recommendation,  that  the  Congressman  had  given  in  the 
names  of  four  others.  I  told  Mr.  Wanamaker  the  history 
of  my  candidate;  that  he  was  an  old  soldier,  brevetted 
for  bravery  at  Antietam;  that  McKinley  had  him  ap- 
pointed postmaster  some  years  before ;  but  in  consequence 
of  a  propensity  for  drink,  he  lost  the  place,  and  that  I 
could  bear  testimony  to  his  character  for  four  years,  hav- 
ing been  reclaimed  through  a  Methodist  revival.  I  cited 
several  instances  of  his  kindness  to  the  old  soldiers.  Mr. 
Wanamaker  listened  attentively,  and  requested  me  to  see 
the  Congressman,  and  have  him  put  "your  friend's  name 
in  the  list."  It  was  done;  he  was  appointed,  and  served 
honorably  the  whole  term.  I  could  see  that  Wanamaker's 
heart  was  moved  profoundly.  He  is  one  of  the  people. 
Without  birth,  without  fortune,  without  friends,  by  in- 
dustry, by  the  use  of  his  brains,  and  by  the  force  of  his 
character,  he  made  for  himself  a  fortune  which  princes 
might  have  envied.  The  circumstance  which  I  have  re- 
corded is  sufficient  to  show  the  goodness  of  his  heart. 

WHARTON  BARKER. — Wharton  Barker  is  descended 
from  a  long  line  of  patriotic  ancestors,  Jacob  Barker,  one 
of  the  financiers  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  being  a  rela- 
tive. I  am  proud  to  name  such  a  man,  because  his  name 
stands  for  integrity,  for  political  righteousness,  for  liber- 
ality, and  for  generosity.  A  few  years  ago  he  was  one  of 
the  leading  manufacturers  of  Philadelphia,  employing 
hundreds  of  men  and  women.  I  have  seen  him  among 
his  employees,  and  surely  there  never  was  an  employer  of 
labor  more  beloved.  I  have  known  him  to  give  forty 
thousand  dollars  to  elect  the  President  of  his  party — the 
money  to  be  spent  in  literature  and  public  speaking.  I 
have  known  him  to.  sacrifice  the  delights  of  home  for  the 


260  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

thorny  path  of  politics.  Why  all  these  sacrifices?  Were 
they  for  nothing?  Assuredly  not.  They  were  for  the 
prosperity  of  his  country. 

DR.  WILLIAM  CARROLL. — Among  the  warmest  friends 
of  Wharton  Barker  is  Dr.  William  Carroll,  the  eminent 
physician  and  patriot  of  the  same  city.  I  knew  the  doctor 
when  he  was  still  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  before  he  entered 
the  army,  where  he  served  with  distinction. 

Dr.  Carroll  is  descended  from  a  race  which  has  made 
itself  illustrious  in  the  annals  of  American  history,  and, 
like  his  renowned  relative,  Charles  Carroll  of  Carroll- 
ton,  he  has  no  faith  in  the  beauties  and  beatitudes  of  Eng- 
lish rule  here  or  anywhere.  He  is  a  man  of  sound  dis- 
cretion, although  his  life  has  many  stirring  events  and 
romantic  passages.  I  was  once  a  member  of  a -committee 
with  Dr.  Carroll  to  call  upon  the  Russian  ambassador,  to 
make  an  offer  of  help  in  case  of  war  with  an  old  enemy. 
John  Devoy,  a  very  gifted  man,  a  fine  linguist,  an  able 
writer,  carried  on  the  conversation  in  French. 

The  doctor  is  an  athlete,  of  fine  physical  appearance, 
and  as  he  passes  along  the  streets,  people  stop  and  ask, 
"Who  is  that?"  He  is  boundless  in  his  hospitality;  his 
latch-string  is  always  out  to  his  friends,  and  they  are 
legion.  He  has  a  splendid  library  of  the  best  books  pub- 
lished. He  has  a  large  practice,  and  were  it  not  for  his 
devotion  to  humanitarian  causes,  he  might  be  counted  as 
one  of  the  millionaires  of  the  land.  Dr.  Carroll  was  the 
friend  and  companion  of  John  Mitchell,  and  tells  many 
stories  of  his  old  friend.  The  able  and  interesting  jour- 
nalist, Robert  McWade,  is  one  of  the  doctor's  constant 
companions.  John  O'Leary,  the  distinguished  patriot, 
when  he  visits  this  country,  is  his  guest. 

PROFESSOR  ROBERT  ELLIS  THOMPSON. — If  I  were 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  261 

asked  to  name  a  modest,  unobtrusive,  and  scholarly 
man,  it  would  be  the  Rev.  Robert  Ellis  Thompson. 
He  belongs  to  the  same  quiet  circle  as  Barker  and 
Carroll.  He  is  the  most  industrious  writer  of  the  day. 
He  writes  books  upon  the  Tariff,  biographies  of  George 
H.  Stuart;  writes  for  the  magazines,  and  the  Sunday- 
school  journals.  He  also  edits  a  column  in  his  friend 
Wharton  Barker's  newspaper,  the  American.  He  is  the 
first  living  authority  upon  Protection,  and  is  the  legiti- 
mate successor  of  Matthew  Carey.  That  he  is  a  man  of 
exceptional  ability  is  evident  from  his  selection  as  one  of 
the  lecturers  before  Yale  College.  As  a  writer  upon  this 
subject  he  has  made  a  reputation  which  adds  laurels  to 
his  crown,  and  they  are  so  fresh  that  it  looks  as  if  he  had 
never  worn  them  before. 

I  must  mention  also  the  names  of  Judge  Wilhere, 
Martin  Griffin,  Hugh  McCaffrey,  sterling  men,  who  are 
always  upon  the  side  of  patriotism,  temperance,  and  phi- 
lanthropy. 

JOHN  W.  MACKAY. — When  lecturing  some  years  ago 
in  Virginia  City,  Nevada,  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  meet 
Mr.  Mackay.  He  was  very  attentive  and  kind,  giving  me 
a  sketch  of  his  marvelous  life,  and  adding,  pointing  to  the 
Bonanza  mine,  "There,  fifteen  years  ago,  I  worked  as  a 
miner  for  five  dollars  a  day,  and  those  were  my  happiest 
and  best  days !"  He  kindly  offered  his  services,  and  con- 
ducted me  down  into  the  mine  and  through  it.  In  making 
the  descent  of  sixteen  hundred  feet,  in  the  miner's  cos- 
tume, which  he  put  on  himself,  he  told  several  amusing 
stories  of  the  Emperor  of  Brazil,  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher, 
and  of  others,  of  their  Strange  experiences  as  they  de- 
scended. A  German  was  so  overcome  with  the  heat  that 
he  exclaimed,  "Hell  ish  not  far  from  dish  place!"  Even 


262  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Beecher  was  converted  to  the  old  orthodox  views  in  re- 
gard to  hell.  Mr.  Mackay  had  my  picture  taken  in  the 
miner's  garb  I  had  been  obliged  to  put  on  before  descend- 
ing. I  saw  five  hundred  men  at  work  in  the  mines  without 
any  clothes  upon  their  backs.  After  we  rode  in  the  ele- 
vator five  hundred  feet,  my  host  said,  "There,  on  that 
rock,  you  can  cook  steak." 

Mr.  Mackay  is  princely  in  his  benefactions,  and  is 
very  popular  with  the  miners ;  they  admire  and  love  him. 
He  introduced  me  to  his  partner,  Mr.  Fair.  Years  after- 
ward, I  wrote  to  the  latter  on  behalf  of  a  poor  girl  who 
was  studying  music  in  Milan,  and  he  generously  sent  her 
five  hundred  francs. 

P.  DONAHOE,  THE  GRAND  OLD  MAN. — I  am  under 
many  obligations  to  this  rare  old  man.  He  published 
my  first  work,  which  had  a  great  circulation.  It  was 
upon  Ireland,  and  was  delivered  originally  in  Raleigh, 
North  Carolina,  and  published  in  the  Standard,  then 
edited  by  W.  W.  Hoi  den,  afterwards  governor  of  the 
State,  at  the  request  of  General  Miles,  who  was  my  colonel 
in  the  regulars.  Some  one  sent  it  to  Mr.  Donahoe,  who 
published  it  in  the  Pilot.  He  afterwards  wrote  me  that  he 
could  not  supply  the  demand,  and  asked  the  privilege  of 
publishing  it  in  book  or  pamphlet  form. 

Mr.  Donahoe  is  always  young, — though  verging 
towards  ninety,  his  face  is  that  of  a  man  of  fifty,  while  his 
hair  is  that  of  a  man  of  a  hundred  years.  In  every  station 
in  which  he  has  been  placed  he  has  shown  himself  honest, 
capable,  and  faithful ;  he  is,  emphatically,  one  of  the  peo- 
ple. For  all  that  he  has  he  is  indebted,  under  God,  to 
his  own  exertions.  Born  to  an  inheritance  of  compara- 
tive poverty,  coming  to  the  United  States  when  a  mere 
lad,  he  struggled  with  difficulties  that  would  have  ap- 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  263 

palled  and  crushed  a  less  resolute  character.  He  has  been 
burned  out,  and  his  immense  publishing  business  pros- 
trated; but  with  an  energy  and  devotion  to  the  public 
worthy  of  all  admiration,  Mr.  Donahoe  recovered,  and 
succeeded  in  his  great  work.  He  had  to  contend  with 
bigotry  in  its  worst  and  most  dangerous  form — bigotry 
unworthy  of  a  civilized  Nation.  He  supported  the  Gov- 
ernment in  the  War  for  the  Union,  and  does  to-day  in  the 
War  against  Spain  with  surpassing  fidelity.  Modest 
and  unassuming,  Mr.  Donahoe  is  a  Christian  without 
hypocrisy, — he  is  always  the  thing  that  he  seems. 

MR.  PATRICK  FORD. — Mr.  Patrick  Ford  is  one  of  the 
foremost  benefactors  of  the  age.  He  has  always  been 
heard  in  the  defense  of  great  reforms.  His  paper,  the 
Irish  World,  has  never  flinched  in  the  championship  of 
mighty  principles.  I  have  frequently  read  in  my  pulpit  his 
stirring  editorials,  and  they  have  seemed  like  trumpet 
blasts.  I  remember,  years  ago,  I  was  traveling  in  North- 
ern Ireland  among  the  Presbyterians,  who  were  strongly 
national.  I  asked  one  of  the  parties  at  a  dinner,  an  elder 
in  the  Presbyterian  Church,  where  he  got  such  views. 
"From  the  Irish  World"  he  replied.  I  learned  that  twelve 
copies  were  sent  to  every  post-office  in  Ireland.  But  it 
was  undermining  landlordism,  and  the  attention  of  the 
Parliament  was  called  to  it,  and  the  paper  was  prohibited ; 
not,  however,  until  it  had  accomplished  its  work.  His 
scathing  exposure  of  the  city,  State,  and  national  corrup- 
tion in  our  own  country  have  won  him  the  respect  and  ad- 
miration of  all  patriots.  Augustin,  his  associate,  is  equally 
distinguished  as  his  illustrious  brother  in  every  good  and 
blessed  work.  So  also  is  his  gifted  sister  Ellen;  and  no 
less  useful  was  the  lamented  Austin,  who  died  as  an  official 
of  Mayor  Strong's  administration  of  the  city  of  New 


264  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

York.  One  of  the  ladies  of  the  family  was  a  writer  of 
spendid  poetry,  and  her  life,  like  the  rose,  was  still  fra- 
grant and  beautiful  after  death;  for  she  yet  lives  in  her 
poems. 

What  can  be  more  stirring  and  arousing  than  the  one 
on  "Liberty?" 

"  O,  Liberty,  thou  great  and  mighty  angel, 

Whom  the  nations  seldotfi  see, 
View  the  lands  in  fetters  pining, 
Lifting  up  their  helpless  hands  to  thee ! 

Let  the  rushing  of  thy  pinions 

Rouse  the  dreaming  lands  to  life  ;  .  .  . 

And  if  their  manacles  can  only 
By  their  sword  be  cut  in  twain, 

Better  hear  the  clash  of  sabers 
Than  the  clanking  of  a  chain." 

Patrick  Ford  has  long  been  my  friend.  His  character 
stands  forth  like  one  of  Homer's  heroic  combats  in  the 
field.  As  a  reformer  in  the  cause  of  temperance,  in  the 
cause  of  labor,  and  in  politics,  no  man  has  ever  accom- 
plished so  much.  Some  men  are  reverenced,  but  not 
loved;  but  here  is  a  man  who  is  loved  and  reverenced. 
His  whole  character  might  be  summed  up  in  one  word — 
benevolence.  When  a  defaulting  cashier  robbed  him  of 
thousands,  he  refused  to  prosecute  him,  stating  as  his 
reason  that  years  of  imprisonment  would  take  him  from 
his  wife  and  children.  He  possesses  a  Napoleonic  energy 
in  raising  money  for  the  champions  of  liberty,  for  the 
famine-stricken,  and  the  needy.  "Give  me  that  news- 
paper of  Ford's,"  said  a  distinguished  New  England  ed- 
itor to  me  a  few  years  ago,  "and  in  five  years  I  will  clear 
a  million."  Mr.  Ford  has  suffered  by  the  perfidy  of 
others;  but  he  renews  his  youth  and  starts  afresh.  It 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  265 

might  be  said  of  him,  as  Talleyrand  said  after  visiting 
Alexander  Hamilton,  "I  have  been  to  see  one  of  the  won- 
ders of  the  age — a  man  who  enriched  a  Nation,  sitting  up 
all  night  to  support  his  family." 

The  highest  statesmanship,  in  the  opinion  of  Patrick 
Ford,  is  to  do  the  right  thing  immediately,  and  calmly 
await  results. 

Another  celebrated  Irishman  of  my  acquaintance  is 
John  Fitzgerald,  of  Lincoln,  Neb.  Coming  to  this  country 
without  a  dollar,  he  amassed  millions.  He  was  a  mag- 
nificent master  of  finance,  a  consummate  contractor.  He 
was  an  excellent  and  accomplished  man,  always  distin- 
guished for  the  purity  and  philanthropy  of  his  life. 
He  was  manly  and  vigorous.  He  never  discharged,  even 
during  the  hardest  times,  one  of  his  thousands  of 
employees.  All  the  best  qualities  of  our  nature — benevo- 
lence, patriotism,  industry — were  matured  in  this  Irish 
Howard.  The  thousand  dollars  which  he  contributed  to 
the  Logan  Monument  was  only  one  of  his  numerous  bene- 
' factions.  Conspicuous  in  this  State  in  every  good  work 
is  Neil  Brennan.  He  is  much  attached  to  Ireland  and  to 
the  United  States.  There  never  was  a  more  devoted,  un- 
flinching friend.  Parnell  was  the  bright  particular  star 
of  his  devotion.  Nothing  could  shake  his  faith  in  the 
apostle  of  the  new  gospel.  Long  and  bright  be  the 
life  of  my  beloved  friend,  Neil  Brennan !  The  same  may 
be  said  of  his  neighbor,  Mr.  McCaffrey.  He  is  yet  in 
his  prime,  but  he  has  done  much  already  to  build  up  the 
growing  West.  I  was  met  at  the  depot  by  a  reception 
procession  of  the  Grand  Army  of  the  Republic,  com- 
manded by  a  brave  veteran,  General  Slocurn. 

HON.  JOHN  F.  FINERTY. — It  is  impossible  to  know 
John  Finerty  without  being  struck  with  his  magnificent 


266  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

appearance,  his  sonorous  and  thrilling  voice,  his  mag- 
netism, which  always  excites  enthusiasm. 

He  is  an  American  from  the  sole  of  his  feet  to  the 
crown  of  his  head.  Every  argument,  every  burst  of  pas- 
sion, every  sarcastic  shot, — all  are  made  subservient  to 
the  advancement,  power,  greatness,  and  glory  of  America. 

When  in  Congress,  one  of  his  pet  hobbies  was  the 
strengthening  of  our  navy,  building  it  up  to  the  level  of 
our  opportunities.  He  predicted,  when  grave  senators 
laughed  at  him,  that  the  time  would  come  when  we  would 
need  a  great  navy. 

He  is  also  in  sympathy  with  Ireland,  and  believes  in 
the  gospel  of  Wolfe  Tone  and  Robert  Emmet.  He  feels 
this  Irish  cause  even  in  every  fiber  of  his  being.  He  ut- 
terly hates  and  abhors  compromise,  is  fierce  with  those 
who  believe  differently,  and  when  he  hits,  he  hits  hard. 
He  hates  remorselessly  the  English  Tory  member  of  his 
Church,  who  would  place  on  the  British  throne  a  ruler 
as  treacherous  and  persecuting  the  Irish  as  harshly  as  the 
worst  of  the  Stuarts,  who  would  restore  the  splendors  of 
a  foreign  Church  rather  than  do  justice  to  the  Irish  peo- 
ple. What  a  virile  writer  he  is !  There  is  a  dashing  splen- 
dor in  his  compositions  as  well  as  in  his  speech.  I  have 
known  an  eminent  Methodist  dignitary,  president  of  one 
of  our  colleges,  to  spend  a  part  of  a  Sunday  afternoon 
reading  with  delight  one  of  his  papers. 

Among  Mr.  Finerty's  friends  at  home  is  Alexander 
Sullivan,  who  had  the  glory  of  perfecting  the  Land 
League;  a  lawyer,  skillful  and  shrewd;  a  man  who  exer- 
cises influence  by  the  force  of  his  character  and  the  au- 
thority of  his  well-informed  mind.  His  address  to  Presi- 
dent Arthur  is  a  model  of  statesmanship  and  of  sound 
logic. 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  267 

His  wife,  Mrs.  Margaret  Sullivan,  is  probably  the  most 
powerful  woman  newspaper-writer  of  the  United  States. 
In  her  writings  are  contained  all  the  elements  of  genius, 
original  thought,  and  inspiration.  As  an  essayist  and 
reviewer,  she  has  no  equals.  Her  mission  is  to  vindicate 
the  cause  of  justice,  to  teach  oppressors  righteousness, 
to  animate  the  suffering  conscience,  to  inspire  timidity 
with  courage,  to  arouse  sympathy  for  oppressed  lands. 

Mrs.  Sullivan  is  also  a  wit.  She  was  present  some 
years  ago  when  General  Logan  and  I  addressed  a  mon- 
ster meeting  at  Ogden's  Grove,  in  Chicago.  After  all 
was  over,  she  laughingly  said  to  me,  "Mr.  Pepper,  these 
good  Irish  Catholics  think  you  are  too  good  a  man  to  be 
a  Methodist." 

Few  Americans  who  read  those  brilliant  articles  on 
political  economy  written  by  this  gifted  woman  will  with- 
hold their  sympathy  from  her  now,  broken  down  and  seek- 
ing health  in  foreign  lands. 

If  she  has  not  the  piquancy  of  Madame  de  Stael;  if 
not  so  versatile  and  sensational  as  George  Sand;  if  not 
so  pathetic  as  George  Eliot;  if  not  so  persuasive  as  Mrs. 
Humphry  Ward, — in  logic,  in  eloquence  of  style,  in  pow- 
erful delineation  of  character,  she  is  superior  to  them  all. 

Mrs.  Sullivan  has  had  her  trials  and  tribulations,  and 
has  learned  the  lesson  of  Raleigh:  "Death,  which  hateth 
and  destroyeth  a  man,  is  believed !  God,  who  hath  made 
and  loved  him,  is  always  deferred." 

Others  among  his  devoted  friends  might  be  men- 
tioned :  W.  J.  Onahan,  learned  in  history ;  William  Dillon, 
the  accomplished  scholar,  and  an  authority  on  all  Church 
law;  J.  T.  Keating,  a  live  man  and  a  great  organizer; 
A.  L.  Morrison,  the  famous  campaign  orator;  McCoy, 
the  genial  entertainer  and  prince  of  good  fellows;  Brady, 


268  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

the  bright  lawyer;  M.  V.  Gannon,  an  old  toiler  in  the 
good  work  and  a  noted  speaker;  Father  Dorney;  W.  J. 
Hynes,  the  great  criminal  lawyer, — these  are  a  few  of  his 
friends;  they  carry  him  upon  their  shields. 

MAJOR  WILLIAM  GLEASON. — Not  to  know  him,  in 
Cleveland,  is  to  know  nobody !  There  has  been  no  public 
measure  for  the  benefit  of  the  city  in  which  he  has  not 
been  interested.  He  has  consecrated  to  all  such  works 
his  time,  his  ability,  his  close  inspection,  and  his  deliberate 
judgment.  When  the  Soldiers'  Monument  was  built, 
General  Leggett  told  me  that  Gleason  was  not  only  its 
secretary,  spending  days  and  months  and  years  getting 
the  names  of  the  Cuyahoga  boys  who  enlisted,  so  that  the 
names  might  be  inscribed  upon  it,  but  he  was  the  life  and 
soul  of  the  whole  movement.  He  went  to  every  meeting, 
met  the  enemies  of  the  monument,  refuted  their  objec- 
tions, and  almost  invariably  won  their  support.  He  would 
go  to  the  Legislature  and  plead  for  money,  and  if  facts 
did  not  convince  the  members,  then  the  major  would,  with 
a  hearty,  merry  laugh,  bring  into  requisition  his  sarcasm, 
his  tears,  and  his  abundant  wit. 

Patriotism  has  its  own  reward,  and  it  is  well;  for  cer- 
tainly it  is  not 'appreciated  in  some  parts  of  our  country. 
Here  is  a  man  who  has  been  a  soldier,  a  political  worker, 
and  a  philanthropist,  who  has  received  no  national  recog- 
nition. 

Go  into  any  meeting  for  bidding  God-speed,  or  to 
welcome  the  returning  hero  of  the  Civil  or  Cuban  wars, 
and  there  is  the  magnetic  presence  of  my  friend  Gleason, 
making  suggestions  with  a  smplicity  and  vigor  which  al- 
ways carry  his  side.  The  word  "fail"  is  not  found  in  his 
vocabulary.  I  believe  he  has  held  one  office — the  gift  of 
a  worthy  man,  Mayor  Gardner — that  of  auditor  of  the 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  269 

city,  or  comptroller;  an  office  which  he  filled  with  credit 
to  the  city  and  great  credit  to  himself. 

He  has  many  friends.  Father  Thorpe  is  among  his 
warmest.  The  late  P.  K.  Walsh,  an  Irish  patriot,  was  the 
brother  of  his  heart.  The  beautiful  monument  over 
Walsh's  grave  was  largely  the  result  of  Major  Gleason's 
efforts  in  raising  the  necessary  funds. 

He  is  a  bold  asserter  of  his  opinions,  and  a  dauntless 
defender  of  them.  I  remember  him  in  his  youth,  when  he 
was  a  rollicking  boy,  and  retain  a  vivid  recollection  of  his 
kindness  to  myself  and  others  in  times  that  tried  men's 
souls. 

Captain  Patrick  L.  Smith,  the  well-known  lake  cap- 
tain and  ship-owner,  is  entitled  to  honorable  mention  in 
these  recollections ;  for  he  was  among  my  earliest  Cleve- 
land friends.  He  has  by  his  industry,  inflexible  devotion 
to  business,  and  by  his  skill,  acquired  a  handsome  fortune. 
He  is  ranked  among  the  millionaires  of  the  city.  My  old 
friend  has  all  the  hospitality,  the  wit,  the  gallantry  of  the 
race  from  which  he  sprung.  He  is  probably  the  best 
known  Irish  citizen  of  Cleveland,  and  is  regarded  as  one 
of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world.  Meet  him  at  the  public 
resorts  or  at  his  home,  and  one  is  charmed  with  him.  He 
has  a  fine,  free,  rollicking  way  with  him  that  at  once  wins 
him  hosts  of  friends  wherever  he  appears.  He  is  a  good 
story-teller,  and  his  cordiality  is  perfectly  infectious.  His 
candor  is  eminently  touching.  You  may  have  believed 
that  he  was  a  bigoted  religious  or  a  violent  partisan.  A 
few  minutes  disenchants  you  of  these  illusions,  when  he 
tells  you  that  politics  is  a  humbug  from  beginning  to 
end,  and  as  for  religion,  every  man  is  responsible  to  God 
for  his  faith.  He  gives  liberally  to  every  benevolent  cause. 
He  glories  in  his  patriotism.  The  names  of  Robert  Em- 


270  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

met,  Abraham  Lincoln,  Grant,  arouse  in  him  the  greatest 
enthusiasm.  He  adores  America,  and  will  repeat  poetry 
about  its  great  men,  its  past,  its  flag,  and  its  future, — that 
country  of  which  Thomas  Davis  grandly  says : 

"  There  are  lands  where  manly  toil 
Surely  reaps  the  crops  it  sows ; 
Glorious  woods  and  teeming  soil 
Where  the  broad  Missouri  flows." 

I  look  over  the  list  of  the  old  soldiers  whom  I  know, 
and  I  find  Colonel  Winship,  a  gallant  hero  in  the  war, 
and  a  verdict  winner  at  the  bar;  Judges  Barber,  Hutch- 
ins,  Hamilton,  Stone,  and  Jones,  who  have  won  reputa- 
tion, honor,  and  emoluments.  Judge  Jones's  decisions 
have  never  been  reversed  by  the  higher  courts.  Captain 
Kaiser  is  calm,  self-poised.  He  utters  no  pompous  mouth- 
ings,  but  thoughts  beautiful  in  their  simplicity.  Colonel 
Morgan  is  a  respected  member  of  the  mercantile  profes- 
sion, and  is  always  present  at  meetings  where  soldiers  are 
interested.  He  was  kind  to  his  men,  and  they  honor  him 
to  this  day.  General  Barnett  is  a  grand  old  veteran. 
And  much  might  be  said  of  Colonel  George  H.  Fos- 
ter, lawyer  and  good  citizen ;  of  Shields,  Schofield,  Hayne, 
and  of  my  lamented  friend,  Dr.  Springstein,  whose 
death  was  universally  regretted.  John  G.  W.  Cowles  was 
chaplain,  and  brightly  lettered  his  name  into  the  hearts 
of  the  boys.  Nesbitt  wore  no  eagle,  but  was  a  high  pri- 
vate, and  a  brave  one.  Colonel  Millas  was  always  at 
his  post;  and Stafford  a  soldier  of  whom  his  coun- 
try may  be  proud. 

COLONEL  M.  T.  HERRICK. — This  well-known  finan- 
cier is  the  architect  of  his  own  fortune,  without  the  advan- 
tageous aids  of  wealth  and  rich  friends.  He  has  risen  by 
his  own  exertions.  No  obstacles  were  so  great  that  he 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  271 

did  not  surmount  them.  His  perseverance,  his  business 
skill,  his  sagacity,  have  all  been  rewarded  in  making  him 
one  of  the  foremost  and  successful  bankers  in  the  United 
States.  His  generosity  is  well  known,  and  his  recent  gift 
to  the  Salvation  Army  has  ranked  his  name  with  the  phi- 
lanthropists of  the  age.  He  possesses  the  genius  of  Pea- 
body,  the  benevolence  of  Samuel  Bugett,  the  sagacity  of 
Sage  without  his  eccentricities.  He  is  a  man  of  action, 
not  a  mere  vapid  talker;  but  when  he  speaks,  every  word 
weighs  a  pound.  Colonel  Herrick  has  flung  the  life  of  a 
young  heart,  a  pure  genius,  and  a  well-stored  intellect 
into  his  chosen  life-work,  and  he  has  made  a  decided 
success. 

JOHN  D.  ROCKEFELLER. — Cleveland  has  many  such 
men  as  the  foregoing,  but  it  was  reserved  for  John  D. 
Rockefeller  to  throw  all  others  into  the  shade  by  his 
princely  gifts.  He  has  given  force  and  form  to  philan- 
thropy in  its  highest,  noblest  expression.  He  has  proved 
himself  greater  than  a  king.  His  benevolences  are  like  a 
freshet  in  its  force,  and  like  the  sea  in  its  abundance. 
There  is  one  thing  more  for  him  to  do,  and  that  is  to 
build  a  shelter  and  a  Home  for  poor,  superannuated 
laboring  men.  A  Jewish  gentleman  of  Milan,  worth 
millions,  who  contemplated  an  act  of  this  kind,  once  asked 
me  if  in  the  United  States  there  was  such  a  building,  so 
that  he  could  model  from  it.  I  was  compelled  to  say  there 
was  none,  and  he  went  on  with  his  project  without  having 
any  help  from  the  United  States.  Let  Mr.  Rockefeller, 
the  Christian  Baptist,  imitate  and  emulate  the  deed  of  this 
Jewish  philanthropist,  and  thousands  will  bless  his  name. 

COLONEL  WILLIAM  EDWARDS. — I  have  already  made 
allusion  to  my  fortunate  acquaintance  with  the  above 
accomplished  and  broad-minded  man — but,  alas!  the  ink 


272  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

had  scarcely  dried,  when  the  news  flashed  through  the 
country,  Colonel  William  Edwards  is  dead !  Little  did  I 
think,  when  I  saw  him  last,  the  picture  of  health,  of  joy- 
ousness,  and  of  happiness,  that  those  eyes,  in  which  a  true 
soul  shone  forth,  should  now  be  closed;  that  the  hand 
so  cordially  extended  in  friendly  greeting  should  be  mo- 
tionless, and  that  the  face  so  mirthful  and  so  expressive 
should  now  be  shrouded  in  death !  No  more  respected 
and  beloved  citizen  ever  lived  in  Cleveland.  Colonel  Ed- 
wards was  descended  from  the  renowned  Jonathan,  who 
had  such  visions  of  splendor  in  the  dark  Northampton 
woods.  The  hundreds  who  not  only  attended  the  burial, 
but  who  flocked  to  Lakeview  the  next  day,  showed  that 
his  memory  found  a  place  in  the  deepest  affections,  and 
that  his  image  was  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  our  people. 
When  Daniel  Webster  lay  dead  in  Marshfield,  a  plain  old 
farmer  said,  "Daniel  Webster,  the  world  without  you  will 
be  lonesome!"  So  we  may  say  of  our  lamented  friend: 
Cleveland  without  him  will  be  lonesome.  Sing  his  dirge 
in  the  words  of  the  Highland  Scotch  poet — words  that  are 
sung  when  a  distinguished  Scotchman  is  carried  to  the 
grave : 

"  Neighbor,  accept  our  parting  song ; 
The  road  is  short,  the  rest  is  long; 
The  Lord  brought  here,  the  Lord  takes  hence; 
This  is  no  house  of  permanence. 

On  bread  of  mirth,  and  bread  of  tears, 
The  pilgrim  fed  these  checkered  years ; 
Now,  Landlord  World,  shut  to  the  door : 
The  guest  is  gone  for  evermore. 

Gone  to  the  land  of  sweet  repose, 
His  comrades  watch  him  as  he  goes  ; 
Of  toil  and  moil  the  day  was  full, — 
A  good  sleep  now,  the  night  is  cool." 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING.  273 

Then  there  is  my  long-life  friend,  Colonel  R.  C.  Par- 
sons, a  successful  and  gifted  speaker.  Always  self-pos- 
sessed and  eloquent.  I  have  mentioned  his  kindness  in 
securing  me  a  ticket  to  the  impeachment  trial  of  Andrew 
Johnson,  the  Vice-President.  Bluff  Ben  Wade  wrote  on 
an  old  envelope,  "For  God's  sake  give  the  bearer,  Chap- 
lain Pepper,  a  ticket  to  the  trial."  Colonel  Parsons  does 
not  go  to  Demosthenes  for  his  model  in  oratory,  but  he 
studies  the  great  Americans  of  the  past. 

Colonel  Barnett  is  still  with  us — calm,  brave,  wise, 
and  never  absent  from  any  meeting  where  the  soldier  is 
to  be  honored,  cheered,  and  welcomed.  His  sympathies 
are  always  with  the  people  who  till  the  fields,  build  the 
ships,  and  drain  the  swamps. 

The  same  might  be  said  of  many  old  Cleveland  soldiers, 
— Colonel  Sullivan,  who  was  a  brave  and  gallant  man ;  and 
Brinsmade,  as  true  to  his  country  as  to  the  saddest  client 
that  ever  sought  the  shelter  of  his  blazing  shield;  Will- 
iam Monaghan,  a  soldier  who  never  flinched  in  battle,  and 
came  out  of  the  service  with  flying  colors ;  Colonel  Moses 
Dickey,  who  commanded  an  Ohio  regiment,  was  a  great 
favorite  with  his  soldiers;  Hutchins,  a  wise  adviser,  a 
strength  and  honor  to  his  profession.  Colonel  Kendall, 
my  old  friend  of  the  regular  army,  is  a  bright,  companion- 
able, and  chivalrous  gentleman,  who  has  a  habit  of  stirring 
up  things  wherever  he  is  placed.  He  has  an  indestruc- 
tible and  sublime  faith  in  his  country's  future.  General 
Elwell's  large  and  patriotic  heart  cherishes  the  precious 
memories  of  his  dead  comrades.  A  very,  the  scholar,  the 
historian,  the  legislator — in  war,  valiant;  in  private  life, 
gentle,  tactful,  and  conversational — is  a  writer  of  his- 
tories and  a  patriotic  gentleman.  Stafford,  commander 
of  Memorial  Post,  with  a  full  heart  and  streaming  eyes, 

18 


274  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

tells  of  the  past.  The  same  might  be  said  of  Couch,  of 
Smith,  of  Patterson,  of  Winship,  Dissette,  Stone,  Hamil- 
ton, Garrettson,  and  Dawley. 

Among  the  Cleveland  ministers  are  Manchester; 
Place  (who  entered  the  army  in  his  sixteenth  year,  and 
fought  to  the  end,  a  boy  in  years,  but  a  veteran  in  experi- 
ence), Stewart,  Mitchell,  Reager,  Bush,  and  the  venerable 
Father  Brown,  who  dedicated  the  glory  of  their  youth  to 
their  country's  cause.  Martin  Foran,  now  a  leader  of  the 
bar,  was  also  a  good  soldier.  He  is  a  most  able  lawyer. 
In  him  his  client  has  a  crafty  advocate,  quiet  as  Somnus, 
vigilant  as  Argus,  and  cunning  as  Mercury.  He  is  bold 
and  adventurous,  striking  away  right  and  left  with  the 
abandon  of  a  gladiator.  A.  R.  Brewer  served  throughout 
the  entire  war.  He,  also,  is  a  lawyer  of  wide  reading,  emi- 
nent for  the  soundness  of  his  views,  the  unlabored  clear- 
ness and  compactness  of  his  reasoning,  and  the  calm  but 
earnest  simplicity  of  his  style.  What  he  says  once  is  well 
said,  and  never  weakened  by  repetition;  not  a  word  is 
thrown  away;  he  strikes  out,  and  the  object  is  attained. 
I  can  not  forget  my  worshiped  friend,  General  Leggett. 
I  can  not  forget  what  I  owe  to  his  friendship,  to  his  de- 
voted attachment.  I  do  not  forget,  when  I  was  raising 
volunteers,  his  voice  thrilled  through  the  lan.d  in  the  same 
noble  cause.  He  loved  his  country,  and  while  she  treas- 
ures to  her  fond  heart  the  brave  men  who  perished  in  the 
contest,  she  will  guard  with  loving  care  the  hero  of  one 
of  the  great  battles  before  Atlanta.  He  was  always  at 
home  in  the  heart  of  the  battle.  Although  brought  up 
a  Quaker,  like  the  sea-bird,  he  gloried  in  the  storm — the 
louder  it  raged,  the  more  intense  his  delight.  General 
Leggett  was  an  extensive  reader,  an  author  of  ability,  a 


MEN   WORTH  REMEMBERING,  275 

trusted  member  of  General  Grant's  Cabinet,  and  a  finished 
gentleman.  Time  would  fail  to  mention  all  the  soldiers, 
such  as  Colonels  Dewstoe,  Morgan,  and  Groot,  Smith- 
night,  Shields,  and  Judge  Noble.  The  judge  is  an  honor 
to  his  profession.  Clean  in  his  language,  believing  that 
decency  in  a  lawyer  is  like  drapery  in  a  painting — it  covers 
a  multitude  of  defects.  Where  it  is  not,  the  higher  quali- 
ties are  usually  absent.  He  is  no  petrel;  he  loves  not  the 
tempest.  His  mind  is  essentially  calculated  for  repose. 
His  accomplished  wife  is  a  philanthropist,  and  for  years 
superintended  three  of  the  missions  where  thousands 
were  fed. 

Since  my  return  from  Italy  I  have  lectured  in  many 
principal  cities  of  the  country,  and  I  take  pleasure  in  re- 
cording my  thanks  to  the  various  committees  having  the 
lectures  in  charge,  for  their  uniform  courtesy  and  the 
success  of  the  engagements.  At  Taunton,  Massachusetts, 
Daniel  J.  Carey  was  a  host,  and  he  made  a  triumphal  tour 
for  me.  At  Syracuse,  I  met  my  old  friends,  McGrath  and 
Tracey.  They  crowded  the  hall,  although  it  was  my  third 
lecture  in  that  city.  At  Worcester,  the  committee — 
P.  Skelton,  t)r.  Underwood,  and  Aldermen  Mellen, 
Rogers,  and  Manning — were  prompt  and  effective.  At 
Pawtucket,  Judge  Tillingsworth,  Hon.  Hugh  Carroll,  Vin- 
cent McAlveney,  Daniel  Harold,  William  Burke,  Daniel 
J.  Carey,  and  J.  McAleavy  did  grandly.  Fall  River — my 
old-time  friends,  Monaghan,  Britt,  and  Leonard,  left  noth- 
ing unturned.  Hugh  Gaffney  and  H.  M.  Fox  filled*the 
house  at  Attleboro.  At  Nashville,  the  committee — James 
Killilea,  Tracey,  and  Wrenne— had  great  success.  At 
Hartford,  Mr.  P.  F.  Butler  and  Colonel  Home  did 
their  work  well.  At  Ansonia,  Judge  Quinlan  and  Mr. 


276  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Flahavan  did  effective  work.  So  it  was  at  Lawrence  and 
Lowell,  where  P.  J.  O'Brien  and  P.  H.  Callaghan  insured 
success.  Edmond  Lynch  and  Squire  Connolly — the  one 
at  Kansas  City,  the  other  at  Springfield,  Illinois — did  like- 
wise. At  San  Francisco,  Judge  Cooney,  Cummins,  and 
Foley  were  indefatigable,  and  made  all  the  lectures  a  suc- 
cess. And  so  it  was  at  Toronto,  where  the  fearless  editor, 
P.  Boyle;  at  Quebec,  where  Hon.  Mr.  Carbery;  at  Hamil- 
ton, where  Dr.  Burns,  of  the  Wesleyan  College ;  at  Mon- 
treal, where  Mr.  Mclvor,  full  of  zeal, — all  did  great  serv- 
ice. At  Augusta,  Georgia,  beautiful  Augusta,  there  I  met 
that  prince  of  good  fellows,  Senator  Walsh,  a  splendid 
specimen  of  the  young  blood  and  brain  of  the  South. 
Walsh  is  about  sixty  years  of  age,  with  a  fine  presence  and 
a  frank,  benevolent  countenance.  He  is  a  Southerner, 
brave,  chivalric,  hospitable,  and  is  passionately  fond  of  the 
South.  The  reception  committee  was  composed  of  ex- 
Confederate  soldiers,  and  surely  there  never  was  given 
me  a  more  magnificent  welcome.  I  met  at  a  banquet, 
after  the  lecture,  many  distinguished  Southerners — men 
of  gracious  gifts.  My  friend  Armstrong  is  gone,  and 
others  whom  I  met  on  that  festive  occasion.  Again  I  say, 
beautiful  Augusta!  Within  a  few  years  it  will  be  the 
health-center  of  the  Southern  States. 

My  lectures,  and  probably  the  last  one  I  will  ever  de- 
liver, closed  in  Montreal  upon  the  23d  of  November,  1898. 
En  route  to  that  historic  city  we  passed  through  Buffalo, 
whe/e  years  ago  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  James 
Mooney,  one  of  its  most  enterprising  and  wealthy  citizens 
— a  rare  and  grand  man  he  is,  a  benefactor  of  the  city,  a 
patriotic  gentleman;  Doctor  Cronin,  the  eminent  jour- 
nalist, who  unites  calmness  with  enthusiasm,  valor  with 
coolness,  brains  with  sense,  a  generous,  broad-minded 


MEN  WORTH  REMEMBERING.  277 

man;  Mahoney,  the  youngest  man  who  ever  sat  in  Con- 
gress, noted  for  his  courage,  ability,  and  fidelity. 

Passing  through  Toronto,  we  met  Waring  Kennedy, 
twice  elected  mayor  of  that  city.  Memory  recalls  our  first 
meetings  in  the  old  Donegal  Square  Wesleyan  Church, 
Belfast.  Then  I  remember  my  old  friend  Boyle,  fearless 
and  brave,  an  ardent  and  whole-souled  Irishman.  Arriv- 
ing at  Montreal,  we  were  met  by  a  Committee,  Messrs. 
McMorrow,  Ivers,  O'Neil,  O'Brien,  Lavelle,  Berming- 
ham,  Feeney,  Morgan^  and  Reilley,  We  were  immedi- 
ately taken  to  the  Windsor  Hotel,  said  to  be  the  finest  in 
the  Dominion.  During  the  day  I  was  interviewed  by  the 
newspapers,  and  in  the  evening  lectured  upon  the  Martyrs 
in  a  splendid  hall,  to  a  packed  audience. 

There  were  thanks 'and  cheers  for  the  martyrs  of  all 
nations — thanks  and  cheers  for  Lovejoy,  Brown,  Garfield, 
Haddock,  and  Lincoln,  the  martyrs  of  America;  thanks 
and  cheers  for  Emrnet,  Fitzgerald,  Tone,  Orr;  and  the 
last  thrice  consecrated  heroes,  thanks  and  cheers  for  those 
of  Cuba.  Maceo's  death,  the  greatest  Cuban  soldier,  the 
most  splendid  in  daring,  in  gallantry,  did  not  check  the 
mighty  love  of  freedom.  It  was  a  sad  hour.  Dead,  with 
tens  of  thousands  of  his  comrades  waiting  his  commands ; 
dead,  with  American  and  European  lovers  of  liberty  look- 
ing for  the  resurrection  of  beautiful  Cuba ;  dead,  with  the 
speeches  of  our  statesmen  pleading  in  her  behalf  still 
vibrating  in  our  ears.  O  God!  is  freedom  dead?  Is  tra- 
dition dead,  and  is  her  finger  no  more  uplifted?  Not  so, 
friends.  Freedom  yet  prophesies  in  the  tabernacle  of  the 
heart;  tradition  yet  lives,  and  points  to  Thermopylae,  to 
Dungannon,  and  to  Washington ;  carries  ever  in  the  light 
a  luminous  vision  of  liberty  enthroned.  Martyrs  have 
been  the  seeds  of  Christianity,  but  of  freedom.  They 


278  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

were  the  giants  of  their  day  and  generation.     The  poet 
saw  them  when  he  wrote  these  lines : 

"Bring  me  men  to  match  my  mountains, 

Bring  me  men  to  match  my  plains  ; 
Men  with  Empires  in  their  purpose, 

And  new  Bras  in  their  brains  ; 
Pioneers  to  clear  Thought's  marshland, 

And  to  cleanse  old  Brin's  fens  ; 
Bring  me  men  to  match  my  mountains, — 
Bring  me  men !" 


Chapter  XV. 

METHODIST   CAMP-MEETINGS  IN  THE  PAST. 

A  FEATURE  of  Methodism  that  is  rapidly  disappear- 
ing is  the  camp-meeting.  When  I  first  began  to 
preach  in  the  United  States,  these  meetings  were  a  great 
part  of  the  services,  occurring  once  a  year  in  many  of  the 
districts.  I  well  remember  the  first  one  I  attended.  It 
was  warm-hearted,  enthusiastic,  and  soul-stirring;  but 
there  were  many  things  which  looked  as  if  they  were  not 
in  exact  accordance  with  the  apostolic  injunction,  "Let 
everything  be  done  decently  and  in  order."  For  some 
weeks  the  most  extensive  preparations  had  been  made; 
the  surrounding  country  was  in  a  state  of  intense  excite- 
ment; all  was  bustle  and  stir.  Merchants  in  the  country 
towns  around  closed  their  stores,  and  farmers  abandoned 
their  avocations — all  to  attend  the  camp-meeting. 
Preachers,  local  and  traveling,  were  there  in  abundance. 
The  morning  of  the  day  when  the  camp-meeting  was  to 
open  was  beautifully  calm  and  fine.  More  than  one  hun- 
dred tents  were  pitched  so  as  to  form  a  hollow  square,  and 
it  was  truly  a  noble  sight  to  see  the  thousands  of  earnest 
people  assembled  in  the  grand  old  woods,  God's  first  tem- 
ples, to  worship  God. 

One  of  the  great  attractions  on  such  occasions  was 
the  preacher  who  was  to  do  the  principal  preaching.  The 
one  that  I  heard  deliver  the  first  sermon  was  a  tower  of 
strength,  bold  and  fiery  in  his  speech,  but  not  blessed  with 
any  education.  He  attended  to  his  farm  during  the  week, 
and  looked  after  the  circuits  on  Sunday.  The  announce- 

279 


280  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

ment  of  his  name  brought  hundreds  from  all  the  surround- 
ing towns  and  hamlets.  In  this  sermon  there  was  a  union 
of  strength  and  beauty  which  showed  much  ability.  He 
commenced  in  low,  drawling  tones,  which  at  first  was  very 
disappointing ;  but  after  a  few  moments  one  became  inter- 
ested and  delighted  with  the  simplicity  of  the  uncultured 
eloquence,  a  style  that  is  seldom  heard  nowadays.  After 
the  sermon  the  tents  were  crowded  with  persons  of  both 
sexes,  on  their  knees.  The  noise  was  so  great  that  it  was 
impossible  to  tell  who  was  praying.  Several  of  the  breth- 
ren threw  their  coats  off,  and  the  women  had  cast  aside 
their  bonnets  (they  wore  bonnets  in  those  days !)  and  they 
were  even  more  enthusiastic  than  the  men,  clapping  their 
hands  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  I  noticed 
one  woman  lying  flat  on  her  face,  screaming,  "I  have  got 
it!"  and  another,  equally  earnest,  was  repeating  the  re- 
frain, "I  '11  wait  till  Jesus  comes,  and  then  be  carried 
home!"  Another  threw  her  arms  around  a  sister  who 
was  praying,  and  embracing  her  eagerly  they  swayed 
backwards  and  forwards  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  Others 
caught  the  infection,  and  all  in  unison  sang: 

"  O,  that  I  could,  with  favored  John, 
Recline  my  weary  head  upon 

The  blest  Redeemer's  breast ! 
From  care  and  fear,  and  sorrow  free, 
Give  me,  O  I/ord,  to  find  in  thee 

My  everlasting  rest." 

Then  they  sang  as  a  chorus,  "Glory!  Hallelujah!"  or 
"We  will  wait  till  Jesus  comes,  and  then  be  carried  home." 
The  leader  of  the  meeting  for  the  hour  then  gave  out  the 
military  hymn,  "Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross?"  which  was 
sung  with  stirring  melody,  a  melody  equal  to  Luther's 
immortal  "Bin  feste  Burg." 


CAMP-MEETINGS  IN  THE  PAST.  281 

The  speaking  meetings  were  distinguished  by  a  variety 
of  experiences  and  appeals ;  one  earnest  brother  cried  out, 
"Fire  up,  brothers !  fire  up,  sisters !"  and  then,  "Down 
upon  your  knees!"  At  this,  a  quiet  Methodist  hesitat- 
ingly offered  an  opinion. that  there  was  too  much  noise, 
that  he  did  not  like  the  screaming.  "I  do  n't  like  it ;  you 
are  entirely  too  noisy,"  he  said ;  but  was  instantly  an- 
swered by  a  score  of  voices,  "Better  scream  here  than  in 
hell!" 

One  brother  said  that  he  had  been  trying  to  get  for  a 
long  time  what  Methodists  call  the  "second  blessing." 
He  prayed  and  fasted,  but  it  did  not  come ;  finally,  driven 
almost  to  despair,  he  asked  the  Lord,  "What  is  it?  Is 
it  my  wife? — take  her.  Is  it  my  children? — take  them. 
Is  it  my  farm? — take  it."  There  was  no  relief;  finally  he 
thought  of  an  old  shotgun  that  he  was  fond  of,  and  he 
asked,  "Lord,  is  it  the  old  shotgun? — take  it."  Immedi- 
ately a  sweet  peace  came  over  him,  and  he  knew  he  had 
received  the  second  blessing.  He  was  happy,  and  re- 
joiced with  exceeding  joy.  '  I  saw  a  young  woman 
stretched  out  upon  the  straw  scattered  over  the  ground. 
She  was  evidently  laboring  under  intense  excitement. 
She  would  throw  her  hands  upward,  and  then  let  them 
fall  instantly  as  if  struck  by  some  power.  She  repeated 
this  many  times,  calling  out,  "Jesus,  give  me  the  bless- 
ing now ;  just  now,  Lord !" 

In  the  midst  of  these  exercises  the  horn  blew  for 
preaching,  and  all  hurried  to  the  large  tent  used  for  the 
general  services.  The  sermon  was  scarcely  begun  when 
a  loud  buzzing  was  heard  in  the  distance,  and  a  man 
rushed  upon  the  stand,  screaming  out,  "I  have  got  it! 
yes,  I  have  got  it!"  He  proved  to  be  a  preacher,  filling 
an  important  city  appointment.  He  made  no  apologies 


282  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

for  interrupting  the  sermon ;  but  the  preacher  immediately 
stopped,  and  the  brother,  who  had  suddenly  become  sanc- 
tified, delivered  himself  of  something  like  the  following: 
"I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  the  pastor  of  the  largest, 
richest,  and  most  fashionable  Church  in  my  Conference ! 
How  will  I  go  back  and  tell  them  I  am  sanctified? 
O,  brethren  and  sisters,  pray  for  me."  Here  a  thousand 
voices  murmured,  "May  the  Lord  give  him  courage  and 
bless  him !"  Then  he  went  on  to  say :  "I  was  always  op- 
posed to  the  doctrine  of  holiness,  and  I  came  to  this  camp- 
meeting  to  take  notes  for  the  purpose  of  writing  a  book 
against  it ;  but  praise  the  Lord,  bless  his  holy  name,  I  am 
now  sanctified !"  This  brother  was  a  very  ignorant  man ; 
he  could  not  put  two  sentences  together,  and  his  book, 
if  it  had  been  published,  would  have  been  a  sensation  in 
literature.  When  he  preached,  he  would  quote  the  name 
of  the  famous  French  preacher,  Pere  Hyacinthe,  "Perry 
Hyacinkse."  During  one  of  the  meetings  the  horn  blew, 
as  usual,  for  the  preaching,  but  the  devotees  were  unwill- 
ing to  yield  their  meetings  even  to  hear  the  gospel.  Then 
messengers  were  sent  to  all  the  tents  to  tell  the  people  to 
come  to  the  main  tent.  "It  is  time  to  close  this  'speaking'- 
meeting,"  said  the  leader;  "we  must  go  to  preaching." 
A  brother  answered  him:  "No!  stop  your  praying,  stop 
your  preaching;  let  everybody  sing.  I  am  too  full  of 
glory  to  hear  preaching."  Another  brother  replied  to 
this,  "Brother  Jackson,  how  can  we  stop  these  sisters  and 
brothers  from  praying  to  God?"  "But  we  must  have 
silence,  decency,  and  order,"  said  Brother  Jackson. 
"Is  n't  it  always  in  order  to  praise  God?"  asked  some  one. 
"To  be  sure  it  is  a  good  thing  to  praise  God,  but  now  it 
is  time  for  preaching."  Another  took  up  the  argument, 
"Well,  there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun;  but  this  is 


CAMP-MEETINGS  IN  THE  PAST.  283 

certainly  something  new — that  it  is  not  in  order  to  praise 
God  at  camp-meetings."  At  this  moment  a  brother  called 
out,  "Why,  that  young  woman  has  found  the  Lord,  and 
do  you  suppose  her  mouth  is  to  be  stopped?"  And  so  it 
went  on  until  finally  more  messengers  came,  and  the 
"speaking"-meeting  yielded  to  the  demands  of  the  im- 
patient preacher,  who  was  awaiting  their  coming.  After 
the  preaching,  immense  crowds  of  both  sexes  again 
flocked  to  the  tents  for  special  services.  One  young  wo- 
man fell  by  the  way,  screaming  for  mercy;  another  com- 
plained of  a  burden  upon  her  heart,  and  tried  to  cry  out, 
but  could  not.  Many  of  the  penitents  would  remain  up 
all  night.  I  remember  aiding  a  brother  to  carry  a  young 
woman  from  one  of  the  tents  to  her  room.  She  suddenly 
aroused  herself,  and  commenced  a  conversation  with  an 
invisible  being  whom  she  called  an  angel.  Tears  began 
to  flow  down  her  cheeks,  her  lips  opened,  and  her  face 
brightened  up  with  a  holy  fervor  and  with  such  evident 
sincerity  that  every  one  was  spell-bound. 

Now  and  then  a  solemn  stillness  would  interrupt  the 
boisterous  expressions  of  joyfulness  and  prayer,  and  ex- 
altations seemed  to  hang  over  all  the  people.  One  wild 
young  man  became  deeply  impressed.  An  involuntary 
sensation  came  over  him,  and  he  knelt  down  and  cast  his 
eyes  upward.  His  heart  was  moved,  and  tears  flowed  in 
abundance;  and  as  grace  and  peace  took  possession  of  his 
soul,  he  rose  quickly,  exclaiming:  "I  am  so  happy!  I 
would  swear  it  upon  a  thousand  Bibles!  I  have  got  re- 
ligion !  .Yes,  glory  to  Jesus !"  Those  who  knew  the  reck- 
less life  the  young  man  had  led  were  amazed,  and  sensa- 
tions of  awe  and  reverence  pervaded  the  meeting. 

As  there  were  always  such  throngs  of  people  attending 
the  camp-meetings,  much  crowding  was  necessary,  that 


284  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

all  might  be  accommodated.  Impromptu  beds  and 
couches  of  straw  were  improvised,  and  many  were 
crowded  into  each  sleeping-room.  One  night,  after  my 
wife  and  I  had  retired  to  rest  upon  a  bed  of  straw,  we  were 
startled  to  hear  an  ominous  creaking  above  us.  We  had 
scarcely  time,  however,  to  become  alarmed,  when  the  floor 
above,  which  had  been  hastily  put  up  for  the  occasion, 
gave  way,  and  some  sleepers  descended  upon  us.  They 
proved  to  be  two  very  stout  sisters,  and  this  strange  intro- 
duction led  to  a  friendship  that  lasted  for  many  years ;  but 
my  wife  could  never  speak  of  the  occurrence  without 
being  convulsed  with  laughter. 


Chapter  XVI. 
GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1896. 

IT  was  most  appropriate  that  the  beautiful  city  of  Cleve- 
land, with  its  wealth  of  spring,  should  be  the  seat  of 
the  General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church.  To  a  city  so  blessed  with  natural  and  cultivated 
advantages  came  the  representatives  of  Methodism 
throughout  the  world.  They  came  from  where  the  Rhine 
gushes  wildly  over  its  barriers;  from  where  the  Tiber 
creeps  heavy  with  the  shadows  of  ages  to  the  sea;  from 
where  the  Shannon,  more  grand  than  our  own  Hudson, 
kisses  two  provinces;  from  where  the  Ohio  careers  like 
an  arrow  shot  through  the  wilderness;  from  where  the 
St.  Lawrence  flows,  deep,  dark,  and  cold,  into  the  bosom 
of  its  majestic  gulf. 

I  have  heard  it  said  that  Methodism  has  no  history, 
that  she  has  rendered  no  great  services  to  humanity,  that 
she  has  left  no  splendors  that  endure.  It  is  true,  thank 
God,  that  she  has  no  such  history  as  State  Churches! 
Where  they  obtained  power — witness  the  valleys  of  the 
Piedmont,  drenched  in  the  blood  of  the  Waldenses;  and 
the  plains  of  France,  wet  with  the  gore  of  the  Huguenots ! 
Witness,  also,  Scotland,  red  with  the  blood  of  the  Cove- 
nanters; and  England,  during  the  reigns  of  Mary,  Eliza- 
beth, and  Cromwell.  O  no !  Methodism  has  no  such  his- 
tory. Its  triumphs  have  been  the  triumphs  of  converted 
souls,  the  triumphs  of  peace,  and  the  triumphs  of  happi- 
ness. In  the  illustrious  roll  of  missionaries,  many  there 
are  who  wear  on  their  brows  the  red  bar  of  martyrdom. 

285 


286  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

The  Methodist  Church  has  no  history?  That  was  not  the 
opinion  of  Cardinal  Manning,  who,  in  his  sermon  upon 
the  re-establishment  of  the  Roman  hierarchy,  declared, 
with  a  generous  outburst  of  enthusiasm,  "There  is  no 
telling  to  what  a  depth  of  degradation  England  would 
have  sunk  had  it  not  been  for  John  Wesley  and  his 
preaching  of  justification  by  faith."  That  Church  at 
this  very  hour,  near  the  summits  of  the  Aventine,  is  build- 
ing a  commodious  edifice  in  which  the  lessons  of  John 
Wesley  will  be  taught;  yea,  in  the  very  city  of  Rome, 
where  the  laurel  shall  replace  the  ivy,  beneath  the  shad- 
ows of  its  ancient  glories,  Methodist  preachers  will  preach 
the  gospel.  It  seems  to  me  the  Methodist  Church  never 
looks  so  beautiful  and  so  hopeful,  and  never  speaks  so 
impressively,  as  when  she  is  valiant  for  the  truth,  whether 
it  be  shrouded  in  darkness,  like  the  cross  upon  the  noon 
of  crucifixion,  or  rises  in  its  glory  from  the  tomb  in  which 
the  guards  have  hemmed  it  in. 

This  General  Conference  marked  and  emphasized  cer- 
tain great  reforms.  It  is  only  a  few  years  ago  that  Dr. 
Jabez  Bunting,  the  pope  of  English  Wesleyanism,  spoke 
the  sentiments  of  his  denomination  when  he  said  that 
"Methodism  abhorred  democracy,  just  as  it  abhorred 
sin." 

What  would  the  pious  but  despotic  divine  think  if  he 
had  seen  laymen  engaging  in  oratorical  battle  with  the 
clergy  upon  the  floor  of  this  General  Conference,  and 
arrangements  completed  for  the  admission  of  women  into 
the  great  councils  of  the  Church !  Methodism  is  nothing 
if  not  patriotic.  The  flags  of  all  the  principal  nations 
decorated  the  magnificent  Armory.  There  was  the  flag 
of  old  England — we  can  forgive  her  when  we  remember 
she  gave  the  world  John  Wesley ;  the  flag  of  Ireland  was 


GENERAL    CONFERENCE   OF  1 896.  287 

there — the  immortal  green,  with  the  harp  without  the 
crown ;  the  flag  of  beautiful  Italy  was  there,  worthily  rep- 
resented by  William  Burt,  the  Italian  delegate. 

Everybody  knows  the  exalted  enthusiasm  of  Meth- 
odist preachers  when  their  country  is  the  theme.  This 
was  conspicuously  seen  when  the  son  of  General  Grant 
and  William  McKinley  were  introduced.  The  reception 
of  the  son  of  the  great  general  who  broke  the  chains  of 
slavery  was  unbounded,  and  the  oration  upon  Grant  by 
Bishop  Newman  was  a  beautiful  tribute  to  an  illustrious 
man.  The  oratory  of  the  Conference  recalled  the  grand 
days  of  the  past.  Buckley,  Kynett,  Day,  Neeley,  Moore, 
Grill,  Harlan,  Shaw,  are  all  strong  and  brilliant  speakers. 
Buckley  has  much  originality  and  fearlessness.  Moore 
utters  no  halting  sentences;  every  word  is  full,  and  even 
in  his  most  impassioned  moments,  his  articulation  is  dis- 
tinct. His  is  no  artificial  eloquence,  but  a  mountain 
spring  always  fresh  and  perennial.  The  colored  orators, 
especially  Bowen,  of  Atlanta,  and  Mason,  of  Savannah, 
are  not  surpassed  by  the  pulpit  orators  of  any  race.  The 
great  mistake  of  the  Conference  was  its  failure  to  elect 
one  of  these  men  as  a  bishop.  The  new  bishops,  Cran- 
ston, McCabe,  and  Hartzell,  were  able  and  eloquent 
speakers ;  the  two  former  served  throughout  the  war  with 
a  splendid  heroism.  Chaplain  McCabe,  whose  name  as 
a  money-getter  admits  no  plural  or  parallel,  blushed  with 
youthful  chivalry  when  he  was  saluted  as  bishop. 
Leonard  is  an  effective  speaker.  Years  ago  I  am  told 
that  his  piercing  voice  resembled  the  screams  of  a  scalded 
eagle.  Now  it  is  smooth.  Hamilton's  speeches  are  mas- 
terpieces, strong  almost  to  coarseness,  vigorous,  and 
sinewy. 

This  General  Conference  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 


288  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Church  is  one  of  the  significant  gatherings  of  the  denom- 
ination. She  has  had  many  such  gatherings,  but  none 
of  greater  importance  than  this  one  which  took  place  in 
the  spring  of  1896.  Let  us  pray  that  its  triumphs  will 
be  splendid  and  its  services  to  mankind  numberless. 
While  there  was  no  orator-king  there  like  Simpson,  no 
statesmen  like  Chase  and  McLean,  no  soldier  like  Grant — 
all  Methodists — yet,  though  the  genius  of  the  leaders 
may  have  been  less  conspicuous,  the  number  and  variety 
of  the  members  were  incomparably  greater.  On  the  first 
day  of  May  every  street  leading  to  the  magnificent  Cen- 
tral Armory  of  Cleveland  was  crowded  with  the  yeo- 
manry of  Methodism. 

The  first  day  was  auspicious.  The  sun  shone  in  cloud- 
less splendor.  Yes,  it  was  truly  delightful  enough  to 
charm  sadness  from  the  heart;  the  memory  of  it  passes 
over  me  like  enchantment.  There  were  all  the  various 
elements  of  the  Methodist  Church  gathered  from  every 
part  of  the  globe — its  merchants,  its  farmers,  its  mechan- 
ics, its  judges,  its  clergy,  its  captains  of  industry.  Hark ! 
what  means  that  old  familiar  hymn,  "And  are  we  yet 
alive?"  followed  by  "My  country,  't  is  of  thee?"  It  was 
a  glorious  sound.  I  have  heard  music  in  St.  Peter's  and 
St.  Paul's,  at  camp-meetings,  and  at  grand  army  reunions ; 
but  nothing  so  sweet,  so  grand,  so  overwhelming!  Two 
figures  ascend  the  platform:  one  young,  handsome,  and 
with  eyes  as  brilliant  as  his  dress;  the  other,  thin,  ema- 
ciated, his  head  white  as  snow,  and  drooping  upon  his 
breast, — the  venerable  Bishop  Foster  and  Bishop  Joyce. 
The  speeches  were  all  to  the  point, — they  aimed  to  tell, 
and  did  tell.  No  dandy  coruscations,  no  rhetorical  fan- 
dangoes, no  blank  cartridges ;  but  hard  facts,  driven  home 
like  bullets !  Who  were  the  mighty  leaders  of  this  Meth- 


GENERAL    CONFERENCE   OF  1 896.  289 

odist  host?  There  was  the  venerable  Bishop  Foster,  smil- 
ing like  a  carved  saint  on  some  old  Gothic  capital.  I 
used  to  think  his  style  stilted;  but  the  more  I  read  his 
thoughtful  sermons,  I  realize  that  it  is  full  of  vitality  and 
controversial  passion.  At  one  of  the  Conferences  I  heard 
him  relate  a  story  which  illustrates  the  liberality  and 
breadth  of  his  religious  views.  Like  Dr.  Adam  Clarke, 
one  of  the  lights  of  his  denomination,  who,  upon  being 
asked  if  he  was  a  bigot,  replied,  "No,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  I  am  a  Methodist," — this  incident,  which  I  heard 
from  his  own  lips,  fully  corroborates  Bishop  Foster's 
sentiments.  In  dedicating  a  church  in  Boston  he  referred 
in  glowing  words  to  the  self-sacrifice  and  devotion  of 
the  Catholics  in  the  building  of  churches;  and,  though 
the  elements  be  the  most  adverse,  their  attendance  at 
all  the  services  of  their  denomination  was  uniform.  He 
asked  the  question,  "Where  can  we  find  such  devotion 
paralleled  in  our  Protestant  Churches?  But  I  will  tell 
you  something  more  surprising,"  he  continued.  "The 
last  time  I  was  in  Havana,  the  captain  of  the  ship  said 
to  me,  'Bishop  Foster,  there  is  a  Catholic  bishop  on 
board;  perhaps  you  would  like  to  be  introduced  to  him/ 
I  answered  promptly,  'Yes.'  I  found  the  bishop  to  be 
a  highly-educated  and  social  gentleman.  In  the  course 
of  our  conversation,  I  made  the  following  statement: 
'Now,  my  dear  sir,  I  wish  to  give  you  the  popular  Protest- 
ant opinion  of  your  Church ;  but  remember,  it  is  not  mine, 
nor  that  of  intelligent  Protestants.'  'All  right,'  responded 
the  Catholic  dignitary;  'let  us  have  it,  and  then  I  will 
give  you  my  opinion  of  the  Protestants.'  'Well,'  said  I, 
'the  popular  opinion  of  Catholics  is,  that  all  saloon-keep- 
ers, that  all  deserters  (it  was  during  the  war),  that  all 
the  bad  people  in  the  world,  belong  to  the  Catholic 


2  QO  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Church.'  'Yes,'  replied  the  Catholic  bishop,  'there  is  a 
great  deal  of  truth  in  what  you  say,  and  the  Church  must 
bow  her  head  before  the  disgraceful  acts  of  her  unworthy 
children  who  have  practically  strayed  from  her  fold;  but 
they  are  not  true  Catholics,  they  belong  to  the  body,  but 
not  to  the  heart  of  the  Church.'  Then  he  portrayed  the 
schools  and  hospitals  and  the  thousand  works  of  charity. 
'Here.'  he  continued  to  say,  'you  find  the  Catholic 
Church,'  I  urged  him  for  his  opinion  of  the  Methodists," 
continued  Bishop  Foster.  "  '  I  will  frankly  tell  you.  Years 
ago,  I  was  a  missionary  amid  the  wilds  of  Colorado, 
where  the  voice  of  Christian  praise  was  never  heard.  I 
was  riding  along  in  a  lonely,  dangerous  region,  when  I 
saw  a  horse  tied  to  a  tree.  I  said  to  myself,  "This  is  a 
doctor's  horse,  and  this  poor  miner  is  probably  a  Cath- 
olic." I  opened  the  rude  door  of  the  cabin,  and  heard 
a  man  in  prayer — it  was  a  Methodist  missionary — and  as 
my  soul  went  up  to  God,  I  felt  that,  if  there  were  any  good 
people  in  the  world,  they  were  the  Methodists !  But  they 
do  not  belong  to  the  true  Church,'  he  added,  laughingly." 
There  was  the  saintly  Bowman.  His  purity  of  life, 
his  apostolic  zeal  and  his  heroic  Christian  character  are 
a  part  of  the  history  of  the  Church.  There  was  Walden, 
the  early  advocate  of  abolition,  a  pioneer  in  Kansas  when 
it  was  death  to  be  known  as  a  friend  of  the  Negro.  He 
is  the  brother  and  friend  of  every  young  preacher.  He 
is  said  to  resemble  Simpson  in  his  manner,  fastening  his 
eye  upon  some  one  in  the  audience,  then  upon  another, 
until  all  are  reached.  He  is  a  fine  talker,  always  instruct- 
ive, always  practical,  and  always  evangelical.  There 
was  Joyce — look  at  him ! — his  head  of  a  finer  intellectual 
development  than  any  in  the  Conference ;  an  out-and-out 
Methodist.  He  is  like  a  race-horse,  all  nerve  and  all 


GENERAL   CONFERENCE   OF  1896.  29 1 

fire  when  in  the  pulpit.  Heaven,  send  more  such  bishops ! 
His  eloquent  sermons  leave  impressions  that  will  never 
be  effaced. 

There  was  Fowler,  a  singularly  able  man,  possessing 
a  fine  head,  and  eyes  that  go  through  you ;  in  his  younger 
days  brilliant,  but  rather  vain  of  his  talents.  He  has 
plenty  of  vivid  fancy;  but  he  labors  by  piece-work,  and 
lacks  system  in  his  sermons  and  lectures.  There  was 
Mallalieu.  He  has  a  loving  sympathy  with  all  humanity, 
and  a  brave,  upward  look  for  everything  grand  in  God's 
universe.  There  was  Andrews,  scholastic,  benevolent, 
and  a  man  without  a  crotchet.  He  was  regarded,  because 
of  his  studious  habits,  as  haughty,  cold,  and  self-restrained 
—he  had  none  of  that  abandon  which  characterizes  the 
Methodists.  There  was  Newman,  who,  when  preaching 
the  gospel,  leaving  the  thorny  path  of  political  preaching, 
is  a  master  in  his  art.  All  criticisms  are  impertinent,  and  I 
would  not  willingly  do  injustice  to  any  one.  Many  of  his 
sermons  are  marked  by  splendor  and  heart,  and  as  you 
listen  you  think  of  Demosthenes  confronting  the  furious 
multitude,  where  surging  voices  lashed  the  air  like  an 
angry  ocean,  and  leaving  them  peaceful  and  subdued. 

There  was  Johnson,  the  Irish  delegate.  He  felt  his 
subject  deeply  and  spoke  forcibly.  Like  most  of  the  best 
early  Methodists,  he  was  the  pupil  of  no  school  but  na- 
ture's, yet  by  some  stroke  of  inspiration  he  often  reached 
a  prize  beyond  the  reach  of  art.  Like  Plunket,  his  illus- 
trious countryman,  the  hearer's  attention  is  shivered  by 
the  lightning  before  he  hears  the  first  mutterings  of  the 
thunder.  His  address  on  Ireland  was  refreshing,  differ- 
ing from  similar  addresses  delivered  by  his  predecessors 
on  former  occasions.  I  would  have  been  glad  if  he  had 
shown  that  Ireland's  first  want  was  the  land,  that  Ire- 


2Q2  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

land's  second  want  was  the  land,  that  Ireland's  third  want 
was  the  land,  and  that  her  last  want  was  unity  among 
her  people.  As  a  speaker  Dr.  Johnson  was  a  splendid 
example  of  sacred  eloquence;  he  did  not  strive  after  the 
unutterable,  and  die,  like  the  choked  calves,  with  their 
bleatings  in  their  throats. 

There  was  Watkinson,  the  English  representative, 
author  of  many  excellent  books,  an  editor  of  the  Wes- 
leyan  Methodist  Magazine,  and  a  speaker  of  rare  though 
unusual  eloquence.  His  address  upon  the  relations  of 
English  to  American  Methodism  was  worthy  of  the  man, 
worthy  of  the  occasion,  and  did  honor  to  the  Church.  He 
is  middle-sized,  spare,  and  his  face  exhibits  eagerness, 
kindliness,  and  intellect.  His  was  one  of  the  most  vigor- 
ous and  impressive  countenances  I  ever  saw,  marked  by 
piercing  gray  eyes,  a  high  forehead,  and  lips  compressed 
together  as  the  shells  of  an  oyster.  The  closing  sentence 
of  his  address  was  full  of  beauty.  I  was  reminded  of  a 
passage  in  Curran's  plea  for  a  client,  in  which  he  says 
that  he  would  make  it  clear  as  the  glorious  burst  of  sun- 
shine, which  just  then  streamed  through  the  window  and 
supplied  him  with  a  splendid  illustration. 

But  there  were  sad  gaps  in  the  ranks  of  the  great  men 
of  Methodism.  Scott  had  long  since  passed  away ;  Peck's 
tall  form  was  moldering  in  the  dust;  Ames's  princely  pres- 
ence would  never  again  meet  mortal  eye;  and  the  great- 
est of  them  all,  first  in  eloquence,  first  in  fame,  and  first 
in  the  hearts  of  his  brethren, — Simpson,  also,  was  no 
more.  Never  again  would  his  thrilling  words  delight  and 
capture  his  audience.  In  speaking  of  Ames,  he  was  not 
only  the  statesman  of  his  Church,  but  he  was  a  man 
of  infinite  humor.  At  one  of  our  Conferences  the  lights 
were  suddenly  extinguished.  Some  one  cried  out,  "Turn 


GENERAL    CONFERENCE   OF  1896.  293 

on  the  gas !"  "Never  mind,"  said  the  bishop,  in  his 
solemn  manner,  "there  will  be  plenty  of  gas  when  the 
brethren  get  to  talking."  He  was  always  opposed  to 
importing  preachers  to  fill  important  stations  in  this 

country  .  I  asked  him  how  the  Reverend  Mr. ,  fresh 

from  the  Wesleyan  Conference  by  way  of  Africa,  was 
getting  along.  He  was  attracting  great  crowds.  The 
bishop  lived  in  the  same  city.  His  reply  was  laconic  yet 
significant,  "Dear-bought  and  far-fetched." 

James  W.  Mendenhall  was  not  there.  He  has  on  me 
a  nearer  and  dearer  claim;  it  was  my  happiness  to  win 
his  confidence  and  trust.  It  was  only  a  few  years  ago 
that  he  was  among  the  brightest  of  our  writers  and 
preachers,  now  he-is  among  the  honored  dead.  His  body 
was  small,  but  he  had  a  mind  of  gigantic  mold.  He  had 
qualities  the  rarest  and  noblest.  Alas,  that  our  libations 
should  sprinkle  so  green  a  grave  as  that  where  his  strong 
heart  rests !  Alas,  that  Methodism  should  have  of  him  but 
his  glorious  example  and  splendid  scholarship !  The  soul 
of  Dr.  Mendenhall  is  never  absent  from  the  councils  of 
his  brethren;  it  will  ever  be  his  abiding  testimonial,  a 
surviving  halo,  the  rainbow  of  his  fame,  in  which  are 
blended  all  the  hues  of  his  working  thoughts,  arched  in 
heaven  and  based  upon  time  and  eternity ! 


Chapter  XVII. 
MY  COLLEAGUES  IN  THE  MINISTRY. 

IN  the  Methodist  Church  the  custom  was,  years  ago, 
to  send  two  preachers — a  man  of  experience  and  a 
younger  man,  inexperienced — upon  the  different  circuits. 
The  senior  had  all  the  responsibility  of  revival-meetings, 
of  the  benevolent  collections,  and  of  Church  expenses. 
It  was  his  special  care  to  see  that  these  duties  were  car- 
ried out,  and  that  the  junior  preacher  should  do  his  part 
in  the  enforcement  of  the  laws  of  the  Church.  He  could 
not  baptize,  nor  marry,  nor  perform  any  sacramental  serv- 
ice. Whatever  emoluments  these  duties  brought  be- 
longed to  the  elder  preacher,  who  also  had  the  privilege 
of  remaining  two  or  three  years  on  the  circuit,  an  ad- 
vantage seldom  accorded  to  the  younger  divine. 

The  first  colleague  I  had  was  a  robust  and  shrewd 
brother  from  the  Western  Reserve,  full  of  thrift,  business 
tact,  and  zeal — Allen  S.  Moffitt,  a  practical  farmer;  but 
feeling  a  call  to  preach,  he  proved  himself  to  be  a  man 
of  wide  usefulness,  of  native  ability,  and  of  rare  power 
as  a  singer.  He  was  always  very  popular  with  the  people, 
and  knew  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  com- 
munity. 

Another  early  colleague  was  John  A.  Berry,  who  had 
been  a  successful  physician.  He  abandoned  a  lucrative 
practice  and  flung  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the  min- 
istry. Nature  had  endowed  him  with  a  ready  command 
of  language,  a  retentive  memory,  and  a  determination 
that  never  failed.  He  was  a  sweet  singer  (singing  being 

294 


MY  COLLEAGUES  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  295 

an  accomplishment  almost  indispensable  to  the  Methodist 
preachers  of  those  days),  a  stirring  speaker,  and  a  re- 
vivalist of  the  most  pronounced  usefulness.  He  died  in 
the  very  height  of  his  success  and  usefulness,  leaving  an 
accomplished  and  interesting  family,  who  now  occupy 
prominent  and  honorable  positions  in  the  communities 
in  which  they  live.  One  of  them  is  the  wife  of  Hon. 
John  W.  Buchwalter,  of  Springfield,  Ohio. 

William  M.  Spafford,  another  splendid  type  of  the 
old-fashioned  preacher  with  whom  I  was  associated,  was 
one  of  the  best  preachers  I  ever  heard.  He  had  read 
everything  in  philosophy,  in  theology,  and  in  politics. 
His  fine  fanc}^  as  well  as  his  logical  mind  illuminated 
everything  he  touched.  As  a  preacher  he  stood  in  the 
van  of  the  Conference. 

D.  D.  T.  Mattison  was  a  strong  man,  and  preached 
well. 

Rev.  Jacob  Miensinger,  another  colleague,  was  a  con- 
scientious man,  a  professor  of  holiness,  with  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments written  upon  his  face.  He  was  a  valuable 
pastor  and  a  good  preacher. 

The  Rev.  John  Mitchell  was  a  noted  character  in  his 
day.  He  was  my  senior  in  Nashville  Circuit.  He  was 
emphatically  a  strong  man — strong  in  body,  strong  in 
intellect,  and  strong  in  his  convictions.  He  was  in  his 
element  at  camp-meetings,  where  his  powerful  voice  al- 
ways led  the  singing.  Wherever  that  voice  was  heard 
there  was  no  need  of  a  choir.  I  have  heard  him  say  that  he 
could  sit  up  all  night  to  hate  choir  singing. 

Many  of  these  pioneer  preachers  were  the  victims  of 
a  base  and  unholy  prejudice  because  of  their  Abolitionism. 
They  had  no  friends  among  the  great  political  par- 
ties. Denounced  by  eloquent  speakers  in  Congress,  be- 


296  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

lied  and  slandered  by  the  press,  traduced  abroad,  suffer- 
ing under  a  daily  persecution,  wearied  out  in  the  Border 
States  by  jeering  of  mobs,  waylaid  in  the  South,  their 
houses  unsafe,  their  minds  worn  out  by  rumors  of  venge- 
ance,— they  appealed  to  Heaven,  and  were  comforted, 
sustained,  arid  upheld!  They  remained  steadfast  when 
the  curses  of  the  pro-slavery  mobs  were  rained  like  sparks 
of  fire  upon  their  heads,  and  the  fingers  of  a  savage  set 
of  politicians  were  pointed  at  them,  ready  to  be  dipped 
in  their  blood.  But  their  time  soon  came. 

Providence  was  equally  gracious  in  giving  me  supe- 
rior and  generous  men  for  my  presiding  elders.  Harvey 
Wilson  was  the  first  of  these  precious  servants  of  the 
Church  who  introduced  me  to  the  active  labors  of  the 
ministry.  He  gave  me  wise  advice  on  preaching  and 
pastoral  visiting.  I  remember  one  of  his  counsels  was 
to  preach  my  best  sermon  on  rainy  Sundays,  when  the 
audiences  were  apt  to  be  small.  This  would  get  noised 
abroad,  and  the  people  would  say:  "What  a  splendid 
sermon  to  a  small  audience !  If  our  preacher  does  so  well 
under  such  circumstances,  what  would  he  do  if  the  usual 
congregation  had  been  here?"  I  had  soon  an  opportu- 
nity of  testing  this  advice.  The  third  or  fourth  Sunday 
after  I  went  to  a  circuit  the  weather  turned  out  to  be 
appalling,  the  skies  pouring,  torrents,  the  roads  impass- 
able, and  it  looked  as  if  a  second  deluge  had  come  upon 
the  earth.  I  proceeded  to  the  appointment  in  Holmes 
County,  Lakeville,  and  there  found  one  man.  He  was 
not  a  professed  Christian.  I  preached  one  of  my  best 
sermons  to  him.  He  afterwards  became  a  Christian,  and 
an  official  member  of  the  Church.  The  incident  was  pub- 
lished everywhere,  and  the  next  Sunday  the  school-house 
was  filled  to  overflowing;  and  there  is  now  a  church 


MY  COLLEAGUES  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  297 

there,  and  Brother  D.  Armon  still  lives  to  confirm  the 
story. 

Henry  Whiteman  was  my  presiding  elder  during  the 
war.  He  was  a  thorough  and  conscientious  Methodist, 
a  methodical  preacher ;  although  very  deliberate  and  slow, 
at  times  he  became  so  aroused  as  to  cause  the  people 
to  cry  out,  "What  must  I  do  to  be  saved?"  His  words 
were  weighty  and  convincing. 

Rev.  G.  A.  Hughes  was  a  college  graduate,  orig- 
inal, instructive,  and  profpund,  and  was  among  the  best 
informed  men  of  the  Conference.  His  sermons  were 
well  arranged;  they  were  not  slipshod,  slovenly  com- 
positions, but  well-written,  and  produced  a  wholesome 
influence.  He  was  always  helped  by  his  amiable  and 
gifted  wife.  Their  combined  labors  at  Ashland,  when  I 
was  pastor  there,  resulted  in  much  good. 

Rev.  Alfred  Wheeler  was  one  of  the  most  scholarly 
members  of  the  Conference.  He  had  studied  for  a  phy- 
sician, and  I  think  was  actively  engaged  in  the  profession 
when  he  entered  the  itinerancy.  He  was  a  member  of 
a  debating  society,  where,  because  of  his  varied  attain- 
ments, he  was  called  Lord  Brougham.  In  Conference 
he  soon  took  front  rank  as  a  debater.  As  a  cross-exam- 
iner he  was  admirable;  to  have  him  on  your  side  meant 
victory. 

Rev.  George  W.  Breckinridge  was  a  magnificent  man, 
physically  and  mentally.  He  was  straight  as  an  ash,  with 
voice  clear  and  penetrating,  a  strictly  evangelical  preacher 
and  a  true  friend.  Rev.  Thomas  Barkdull  was  a  pleasant 
gentleman,  a  popular  preacher,  and  a  wise  administrator. 
Rev.  John  Whitvvorth,  an  American  all  over,  was  born 
by  mistake  in  England;  a  sound  preacher,  and  a  most 
patriotic  citizen.  When  fairly  warmed  up  with  his  subject, 


298  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Whitworth  was  like  a  man  on  tiptoe,  burning  to  get 
over  the  ground. 

Rev.  Elvero  Persons,  D.  D.,  was  one  of  those  Meth- 
odist preachers  whom  to  know  was  to  love;  for  in  him 
was  combined  intense  evangelism  with  strong  intel- 
lectual qualities.  He  had  grown  up  to  be  a  man,  active, 
progressive,  and  professional,  before  he  became  a  min- 
ister. He  was  a  member  of  the  legal  profession  when  I 
first  knew  him,  ever  forward  in  active  philanthropy  and 
patriotism.  As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Persons  preached  Christ 
in  the  glory  of  his  pre-existence,  Christ  in  the  perfection 
of  his  Divinity,  Christ  in  the  completeness  of  his  atone- 
ment, Christ  in  the  triumph  of  his  resurrection,  Christ 
in  the  glory  of  his  ascension.  What  can  be  more  tender, 
more  patriotic,  than  his  tribute  to  N.  S.  Albright?  He 
has  embalmed  the  memory  of  that  sainted  man  with 
beauty,  truth,  and  eloquence.  He  was  equally  at  home 
in  his  devotional  and  patriotic  work.  He  could  not  live 
without  this  spiritual  high-mindedness.  He  was  not  like 
the  Scotch  woman's  opinion  of  her  pastor's  prayers: 
"See,  Mr.  Moncrief  is  away  to  heaven  noo,  and  left  us 
all  sitting  here."  Mr.  Persons  took  his  flock  with  him. 
They  are  lifted  up  upon  the  wings  of  his  devotion  to 
heaven,  to  God !  Dr.  Persons  was  also  a  Union  soldier 
and  Judge  Advocate,  brave  and  loyal. 

Then  there  was  Dr.  Nelson,  of  precious  memory,  well- 
read  in  literature,  in  science,  and  in  theology.  He  was 
of  Scotch  ancestry,  and  loved  to  hear  a  good  Scotch 
story.  After  my  return  from  Europe,  I  told  him  the 
following  experience  of  a  Scotch  evangelist,  Richard 
Weaver,  and  when  he  came  around  to  the  Quarterly  Con- 
ference, I  had  to  repeat  it :  In  Glasgow  there  was  a  con- 
verted butcher,  the  fruit  of  Moody's  first  revival,  whose 


MY  COLLEAGUES  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  299 

name  was  Richard  Weaver,  or,  as  he  was  familiarly  called, 
"Dick"  Weaver.  To  his  rough  audience  of  thousands, 
he  would  frequently  ask,  "Boys,  did  you  ever  make  your 
mothers  weep?  I  did  mine  many  a  time,  and  she  used  to 
come  to  the  bars  of  that  window,  and  wetting  them  with 
her  tears,  she  would  cry  out,  'Dick,  give  your  heart  to 
Jesus!'"  then,  turning  his  streaming  eyes  to  heaven, 
"She  is  away  yonder  now ;  but,  bless  God !  before  she  died 
she  heard  her  Dick  preach  on  Glasgow  Common." 

Dr.  A.  J.  Lyon,  careful,  considerate,  and  instructive; 
a  true  friend,  and  a  gentleman  all  over. 

I  might  speak  of  James  A.  Kellam,  a  preacher  of  the 
old-fashioned  type,  who  took  ho  stock  in  stereotyped 
phrases,  but  stuck  valiantly  to  "the  three  R's,  Repentance, 
Redemption,  and  Regeneration;"  of  Hartupee,  a  man  of 
wealth,  who  has  left  his  thousands  to  Delaware  College, 
and  helped  many  a  deserving  student, — a  European  trav- 
eler, a  man  of  accomplished  scholarship,  and  a  presiding 
elder  whose  administration  was  always  marked  by  wis- 
dom and  prudence ;  and  of  Stroup,  a  preacher  thoughtful 
and  suggestive,  bold  and  earnest;  of  Mitchell,  command- 
ing in  person,  and  who  understands  the  art  of  touching 
people's  hearts,  and,  either  as  pastor  or  elder,  succeeds 
in  reaching  the  masses;  he  so  closely  resembles  his  dis- 
tinguished cousin,  William  McKinley,  that  he  has  fre-, 
quently  been  taken  for  him.  Dustin  Kemble  was  modest 
and  unassuming,  with  the  heavy  learning  of  a  scholar,  and 
a  solemnity  that  might  befit  Massillon.  Samuel  Mower, 
a  great-hearted  soul;  gentle  as  a  child,  he  was  yet  brave 
as  a  lion,  and  as  terrible,  too,  if  his  wrath  were  aroused; 
his  love  of  liberty  was  a  passion:  may  the  love  and  tears 
of  his  friends  rest  like  freshest  flowers  upon  his  grave — 
brave,  good  old  man !  I  might  also  speak  of  McConnell, 


300  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

of  Owens;  of  Godman,  president  of  Baldwin  University. 
But  time  fails  me  to  speak  of  these,  and  others  of  the 
acutest  and  most  accomplished  minds  of  the  North  Ohio 
Conference,  powerful  in  logic  and  eloquent  in  decla- 
mation, minds  of  lofty  Goliath-like  stature,  "the  staff  of 
whose  spear  was  a  weaver's  beam," — such  men  as  John 
H.  Powers,  originally  a  blacksmith;  Adam  Poe,  related 
to  the  great  Indian  fighter;  W.  L.  Harris,  afterwards  a 
bishop ;  Edward  Thomson,  the  president  of  the  Ohio  Wes- 
leyan  University,  master  of  the  purest  English,  present- 
ing arguments  for  the  gospel  too  invincible  to  be  over- 
thrown :  he,  too,  became  a  bishop,  and  died  in  the  service. 
Then  there  was  John  Quigley,  exhibiting,  with  force  and 
variety  of  illustration,  the  truths  of  Christianity. 

There  is  much  said  against  this  hard-working  order 
of  the  Church  which  is  neither  generous  nor  just.  A  per- 
plexed bishop  once  said  to  a  minister  of  the  Conference : 
"I  am  very  much  bothered  to  know  what  to  do  with 
some  of  these  preachers.  We  have  three  classes:  One 
class,  everybody  wants;  the  second  class,  everybody  will 
accept;  the  third  class,  nobody  wants, — what  to  do  with 
this  last  class  is  what  bewilders  the  bishops.  We  are  in 
constant  trouble  about  them/'  "I  can  tell  you  what  to 
do  with  them,"  said  the  minister  to  whom  this  remark 
was  made,  "make  them  presiding  elders."  Eventually 
the  system  will  be  abolished.  In  England,  where  Meth- 
odism had  its  origin,  and  where  it  has  become  an  enor- 
mous power,  there  are  no  elders.  Chairmen  of  districts 
take  their  place.  These  are  pastors  of  experience,  who 
visit  the  circuit  or  station  once  a  year,  meet  the  official 
members,  make  note  of  their  desires,  and  report  the 
facts  to,  the  Conference,  the  Church  merely  paying  their 
railroad  expenses. 


MY  COLLEAGUES  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  301 

There  is  Oliver  Burgess,  a  true-hearted  old  man,  al- 
ways and  everywhere  faithful.  He  has  won,  and  justly, 
the  title  of  "Bishop  of  Cleveland," — kind  to  the  sick  and 
prompt  with  his  help  in  sorrow.  Palmer,  Jewett,  Bush, 
old  comrades,  calmly  waiting  the  angel  death.  Bush  was 
a  chaplain,  and  a  good  one,  of  Gibson's  4Qth  Ohio. 

I  might  refer  to  Thompson,  now  a  Californian.  In 
early  life  he  took  to  teaching  as  a  profession,  as  he  was 
passionately  fond  of  books.  He  educated  his  mind,  be- 
came a  scholar,  devoured  books,  and  afterwards  became 
a  preacher.  He  was  the  most  successful  missionary  col- 
lector, with  the  exception  of  the  lamented  G.  A.  Reeder, 
in  the  Conference.  His  sermons  were  Scriptural,  expos- 
itory, and  instantaneous.  He  always  left  his  Church  in 
good  condition. 

Mclntyre  was  also  a  special  friend.  He  has  preached 
in  Ohio,  in  Texas,  and  in  the  Golden  ^State,  where  he 
attracted  large  audiences  by  his  vigorous  and  earnest 
utterances.  He  had  but  one  thought — to  give  dignity  to 
his  profession  and  to  be  a  useful  minister  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

There  was  William  Kepler,  the  secretary  of  the  Con- 
ference for  years.  A  more  industrious  man  was  never 
known;  no  artisan  in  the  workshop,  no  farmer  in  the 
field,  no  mechanic,  ever  wrought  so  unremittingly 
through  life  as  William  Kepler.  He  was  known  all  over 
the  State  and  country  as  an  investigator  of  nature;  in 
fact,  he  began  his  chemical  and  geological  investiga- 
tions as  soon  as  he  was  breeched,  and  in  a  magnificent 
fashion,  that  has  known  no  parallel,  has  kept  it  up.  He 
was  elected  unanimously  to  the  General  Conference,  with- 
out even  asking  for  a  vote.  He  also  was  a  soldier,  was 
with  Sheridan  in  Virginia,  and  fought  in  seventeen  battles, 


302  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

and  was  wounded  several  times.  He  is  the  most  modest 
man  I  ever  knew;  industrious  from  his  cradle,  his  mind 
well-stored  with  facts. 

Younger  men,  like  Brandt,  who  became  renowned 
in  the  anti-saloon  work,  a  splendid  organizer;  Ward,  a 
scholar  and  a  gifted  preacher;  Hoadley,  learned  in  the 
classics,  and  now  professor  in  the  Portland  University; 
Gould,  one  of  the  coming  men;  he  is  a  scholar,  a  his- 
torian, a  sociologist,  and  an  attractive  preacher. 

DR.  D.  H.  MULLER. — "He  who  will  not  reason  is  a 
bigot ;  he  who  can  not  is  a  fool ;  and  he  who  dares  not  is 
a  coward."  If  there  be  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  in  the 
world  to  whom  these  words  do  not  apply,  it  is  Dr.  D.  H. 
Muller,  of  Cleveland.  He  is  one  of  the  most  liberal, 
tolerant,  upright,  high-principled  preachers  that  ever  en- 
tered a  pulpit.  Labor  to  him  is  light  in  the  cause  of 
humanity.  Dr.  Muller  brought  into  the  pulpit  a  style  of 
preaching  singularty  simple  and  impressive,  a  pure-mind- 
edness,  activity,  and  punctuality,  that  could  not  but  war- 
rant the  highest  anticipations  of  his  successful  career. 

For  years,  when  in  his  prime,  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  one  could  procure  standing  room  in  his  churches. 
He  preached  frequently  by  illustration,  thus  walking  in 
the  footsteps  of  the  great  divines  of  the  East.  The 
teachers  of  the  East,  the  most  gorgeous  and  figurative 
of  artists,  dwelt  largely  in  illustrations.  When  the  Divine 
Preacher  condescended  to  interest  mankind  in  the  divine 
mysteries  of  religion,  he  used  illustrations. 

Dr.  Muller  is  a  splendid-looking  man,  a  graduate  of 
Evanston  College,  and  a  fine  scholar.  At  Evanston  he 
was  a  fellow-student  of  Bishop  Fowler  and  other  dis- 
tinguished men.  He  has  a  tall  and  commanding  pres- 
ence, and  a  very  radiant  expression  of  countenance;  a 


MY  COLLEAGUES  IN  THE  MINISTRY.  303 

strong,  clear  voice,  resonant  as  a  bell.  Dr.  Muller  has 
preached  in  the  largest  cities  of  the  country,  always  re- 
maining the  full  Methodist  term  of  years.  As  a  presiding 
elder  he  was  noted  for  his  strict  enforcement  of  Meth- 
odist law,  as  well  as  for  church  building.  Commencing  in 
small  stations,  he  climbed  the  loftiest  and  brightest  emi- 
nences to  which  any  preacher  ought  to  aspire.  The  great 
feature  of  his  pulpit  oratory  is  its  simple  and  earnest  pre- 
sentation of  truth.  The  lips  of  the  man  catch  the  expres- 
sion of  the  heart,  and  he  attains  that  most  difficult  achieve- 
ment ;  he  uniformly  convinces  his  audience  of  his  own 
confidence  in  the  merits  of  the  subject  he  is  discussing. 

Dr.  Muller  is  a  believer  in  political  righteousness, 
and  he  is  mightily  interested  in  everything  that  benefits 
the  city  or  the  country.  He  is  a  thoroughgoing  Meth- 
odist, loyal  and  true  to  its  doctrines  and  traditions.  A 
many-sided  man  is  Dr.  Muller.  In  sickness,  a  healing 
presence;  in  the  pulpit,  a  convincing  orator;  in  private 
life,  he  carries  with  him  a  sacred  charm.  Dr.  Muller, 
Christian  gentleman,  patriotic  citizen,  and  true  friend, 
may  the  day  of  your  departure  to  a  better  world  be  far 
distant ! 

He  was  among  the  preachers  whom  I  knew  before 
I  went  to  Europe  who  gave  me  a  warm  and  hearty  wel- 
come on  my  return.  He  was  the  presiding  elder  of  the 
Cleveland  District,  East  Ohio  Conference.  I  had  not 
intended  immediately  resuming  ministerial  duties;  but 
Dr.  Muller  called  several  times,  and  generously  insisted 
that  I  should  commence  preaching  at  once.  He  assigned 
me  to  Woodland  Hills  Avenue  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  where  I  met  a  generous  and  liberal  class  of 
people.  In  one  year  there  were  four  or  five  new  churches 
built  in  Cleveland  alone  during  his  eldership,  and  it  is 


304  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

safe  to  say  that  in  every  department  of  a  minister's  labors 
he  has  seldom  been  surpassed. 

Although  not  a  colleague,  the  Rev.  G.  A.  Reeder  was 
a  beloved  and  valued  brother  in  the  ministry.  He  had 
only  one  sphere — that  was  the  salvation  of  men  and 
women.  He  had  only  one  ambition,  and  that  was  to  see 
Methodism  prosperous  and  happy.  As  a  speaker  he  was 
calm,  often  eloquent.  He  was  a  thorough  student,  a 
widely-read  historian,  an  accomplished  master  of  facts. 
His  magnificent  gift  of  thousands  to  the  Methodist  col- 
lege at  Rome  showed  his  princely  benevolence.  His 
mantle  has  fallen  upon  his  gifted  son.  Dr.  F.  S.  Hoyt, 
for  twelve  years  editor  of  the  Western  Christian  Advocate, 
is  rounding  a  life  great,  beautiful,  and  noble ;  as  a  profes- 
sor in  our  Wesleyan  University,  learned  and  instructive ;  as 
a  preacher,  profound,  heard  with  admiration.  Dr.  W.  C. 
Pierce  was  for  many  years  a  presiding  elder,  wise  and 
prudent  in  his  government  of  his  district.  His  preaching 
carries  us  back  to  the  remotest  ages  of  the  Church.  His 
services,  both  in  literature  and  in  theology,  have  been 
great.  His  sermons  abounded  in  ideas,  original,  startling, 
and  frequently  sublime.  Dr.  Warner,  the  president  of  the 
university  at  Berea,  and  Professor  Whitlock,  at  Dela- 
ware, stand  at  the  head  of  their  departments.  Their  ser- 
mons and  addresses  are  full  of  eloquence  and  informa- 
tion. I  have  known  them  long  and  well. 


Chapter  XVIII. 

STRAY  LEAVES   FROM   CIVIL  WAR  PERIOD- 
SECRETARY  STANTON. 

1MET  my  old  friend,  Judge  Martin  Welker,  on  Euclid 
Avenue  one  day,  and,  it  having  been  long  since  we  had 
met,  we  immediately  began  talking  about  old  times.  We 
had  both  paid  a  visit  to  Edwin  M.  Stanton,  President 
Lincoln's  great  War  Secretary,  in  1868.  I  was  appointed 
a  chaplain  in  the  regular  army  <by  Mr.  Stanton,  largely 
because  I  preached  a  sermon  in  Coshocton  County,  Ohio, 
on  the  text,  "Out  of  the  South  cometh  a  whirlwind,"  and 
raised  a  company  of  volunteers  on  the  same  Sunday.  The 
call  upon  Secretary  Stanton  was  made  at  his  residence 
in  Washington.  I  attended,  during  the  same  year,  the 
famous  impeachment  trial  of  President  Johnson,  having 
gained  access  thereto  by  means  of  a  pass  provided  by 
the  late  Benjamin  F.  Wade,  then  president  of  the  United 
States  Senate. 

No  patriot,  excepting  Lincoln  and  Grant,  deserves 
more  praise  and  grateful  remembrance.  With  the  simplic- 
ity of  a  child,  Stanton  combined  the  courage  and  strength 
of  a  man.  His  absorbing  passion  was  the  salvation  of 
the  Union.  Through  the  tempestuous  times  of  the  war 
he  held  steadfastly  to  the  vision  of  a  reunited  country. 
Stanton  was  a  man  who  was  free  from  sordidness.  With 
every  opportunity  to  become  a  millionaire,  he  could  say 
proudly  with  Sydney:  "I  will  live  no  longer  than  my 
principles  preserve  me.  I  will  not  blot  out  my  past  by 
providing  for  my  future.  I  will  live  by  just  means  or 
20  305 


306  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

not  at  all."  Stanton  was  a  noble-looking  man;  the  com- 
mon photographs  have  done  him  great  injustice.  His 
face  is  there  represented  as  a  man  of  great  power,  but 
coarse.  In  reality  Jiis  face  was  marked  by  great  beauty 
and  intellectual  power.  He  was  one  of  the  stateliest, 
noblest  sons  of  Adam.  His  voice  in  conversation  could 
be  alternately  soft  as  a  girl's  or  sonorous  as  a  field  cap- 
tain's. In  the  conversations  which  we  had  he  manifested 
the  greatest  self-restraint,  seemingly  indifferent  to  the 
impeachment  trial  so  far  as  it  concerned  himself. 

When  Judge  Welker  and  I  visited  him  together,  he 
was  reading  a  volume  of  Tennyson's  poems  when  we 
went  in.  He  remarked  that  Tennyson  possessed  an  eye 
as  true  and  loving  as  that  of  Homer  and  Dante  for  the 
beautiful  side  of  the  little  things  of  daily  life.  "But,"  he 
said,  "in  all  this  terrible  war  he  has  not  a  word  of 
sympathy  for  the  United  States."  Speaking  of  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury,  Chase,  he  said :  "That  scribe,  Chase, 
is  a  great  master  of  financial  subjects.  He  brings  to 
them  an  extraordinary  amount  of  experience,  combined 
with  great  fertility  of  resources  and  energy."  When  he 
began  to  speak  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  the  Secretary  rose  from 
his  chair  in  zealous  admiration.  "His  eloquence,"  he 
said,  "had  about  it  a  logical  strength  and  solidity  and  com- 
mon sense  which  cast  into  the  shade  the  figurative  fas- 
cinations of  Everett.  His  speech  at  Gettysburg  was  un- 
surpassed in  comprehensiveness,  boldness,  and  clearness. 
It  will  take  its  place  among  the  memorable  orations  of 
the  world."  Referring  to  Grant  and  other  successful 
generals  of  the  war,  he  said  that  they  were  successful,  not 
only  because  they  possessed  the  elements  of  success, 
but  chiefly  because  they  lived  in  a  time  which  afforded 
them  opportunities  for  the  exercise  of  their  talents.  Mr. 


SECRETARY  ST ANTON.  307 

Stanton  became  animated  as  he  spoke  of  the  success  of 
the  Union  cause.  He  said :  "It  is  a  glorious  truth.  De- 
spite Southern  secessionists  and  Northern  sympathy — 
yes,  with  the  world  against  us — we  triumphantly  suc- 
ceeded." Here  Stanton  slapped  Mr.  Welker  on  the  knee, 
and  looked  laughingly  into  his  face. 

"How  different  is  the  England  of  Palmerston,"  he 
continued,  "from  the  England  of  Lord  Chatham,  his  pre- 
decessor, who  withdrew  his  eldest  son  from  the  army 
lest  he  should  be  called 'upon  to  fight  the  American  Col- 
onies, who  were  in  arms,  not  to  maintain  their  British 
connection,  but  to  sever  it !" 

I  told  him  a  story  about  Ben  Wade.  He  laughed 
most  heartily,  saying  that  Wade  was  the  most  persistent 
leader  of  the  Abolitionists  of  the  Senate.  For  years  he 
had  stood  alone.  He  and  Sumner  had  been  the  original 
anti-slavery  senators.  Speaking  of  Charles  Sumner,  the 
leader  of  the  impeachment  trial,  Mr.  Stanton  termed  him 
the  most  eminent  example  of  cultivated  eloquence  in  our 
country.  He  said  that  Sumner's  eloquence  was  not  ex- 
temporary volubility,  which  characterized  American 
speeches;  that  he  made  the  most  careful  preparation, 
acting  on  the  maxim  of  Demosthenes,  "I  should  be 
ashamed  to  throw  out  what  comes  uppermost  in  an  as- 
sembly like  this."  Turning  to  the  fact  that  America  had 
no  sympathizing  friends  among  foreign  nations,  he  quoted 
from  Joseph  II.  When  Joseph  II  was  urged  to  help 
Louis  XVI,  the  husband  of  his  unfortunate  sister,  he  re- 
plied, "Alas!  the  State  has  no  sister."  Speaking  of  the 
men  who  helped  the  Union  cause,  he  was  profuse  in  their 
praise.  He  said  of  Bishop  Simpson  that  there  was  in 
his  preaching  a  magnetic  power  which  bore  down  all 
opposition.  "The  bishop,"  he  said,  "spoke  with  an  in- 


308  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

spired  majesty  and  strength."  Mr.  Stanton  also  praised 
the  efforts  of  Bishops  Purcell  and  Hughes,  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church.  Mr.  Stanton  referred  to  Mr.  Welker  as  a 
very  useful  friend  to  the  Government. 

I  saw  Mr.  Stanton  at  the  grand  review,  a  scene  of 
unparalleled  grandeur.  I  was  within  a  few  feet  of  him 
when  Sherman  declined  to  shake  his  hand.  The  Secretary 
felt  the  rebuke  keenly,  his  face  changed  color,  and  he 
was  profoundly  agitated.  The  cause  of  the  refusal,  I 
believe,  was  Stanton's  declination  to  confirm  Sherman's 
terms  with  General  Johnson.  He  thought  they  were  too 
liberal,  and  so  did  most  of  the  Union  people  at  that 
time. 

When  Mr.  Stanton  was  visited  by  his  warm  friend, 
Mr.  Sumner,  and  was  asked  how  he  felt,  the  great  War 
Secretary  raised  his  head  and  said,  "I  am  waiting  for  my 
furlough."  It  was  only  a  short  time  thereafter  that  the 
furlough  came. 

Stanton  died  too  soon.  He  never  sought  rest.  The 
maxim,  "If  anything  is  worth  doing  at  all,  it  is  worth 
doing  well,"  was  ever  present  in  his  mind.  He  died  with 
the  harness  on.  Chatham  fell  fighting,  Lincoln  was  as- 
sassinated, Canning  died  suddenly  while  soaring  in  the 
pride  of  his  might.  How  many  years  of  usefulness  to 
his  country,  how  many  splendid  deeds,  Stanton  might 
have  achieved !  His  memory  is  now  a  tradition ;  but  pos- 
terity will  do  him  the  great  justice  of  recognizing  that  it 
was  his  tireless  and  magnificent  genius  which  contrib- 
uted largely  to  the  country's  security  and  grandeur.  My 
position  as  an  officer  in  the  army,  as  a  superintendent  of 
the  Freedmen's  Bureau  in  the  reconstruction  period,  as 
chaplain  of  General  Miles's  regiment,  gave  me  abundant 


SECRETARY  ST ANTON.  309 

opportunities  to  know  them,  and  I  frankly  confess  that 
Stanton  was  the  peer  of  them  all,  who,  if  not  so  brilliant 
as  Sumner,  so  eloquent  as  Everett,  so  magnetic  as  Chase, 
yet  in  a  passionate  love  of  the  Union  and  in  a  sublime 
confidence  of  the  result,  was  surpassed  by  none. 


Chapter  XIX. 

MEN  WHO   TOOK   PART  IN   THE   IMPEACHMENT 
OF  PRESIDENT  JOHNSON. 

Written  by  the   author  for  the  Ohio  State  Journal,  from  Wash- 
ington, April  1 6,  1868. 

IT  would  be  utterly  impossible  to  describe  this  bril- 
liant and  extraordinary  trial.  The  scene,  the  purpose, 
the  feeling  it  expressed,  the  illustrious  chief  justice  in 
the  robes  of  office,  and  the  stately  participants  in  their 
places.  It  was  a  spectacle  of  beauty,  patriotism,  and 
grandeur.  I  thought  of  the  impeachment  of  Warren 
Hastings,  and  the  oratorical  duels  fought  on  both  sides. 
It  was  very  difficult  to  procure  a  ticket.  After  all 
efforts  had  been  tried  and  failed,  I  appealed  to  my  old 
friend,  Colonel  R.  C.  Parsons,  of  Cleveland,  a  gentleman 
of  the  old  school  and  an  orator  of  splendid  gifts.  He 
came  to  my  rescue,  introduced  me  to  the  Vice-President, 
who,  upon  the  back  of  an  old  envelope,  wrote  this  request : 

"  For  God's  sake  give  the  bearer,  Chaplain  Pepper,  a  ticket  to 
the  impeachment ! 

"(SIGNED,)  B.  F.  WADE." 

Mr.  Parsons  never  forgot  his  friends.  His  morality 
and  sincerity  of  purpose  are  conspicuous  qualities,  while 
his  society  and  conversation  have  a  charm  that  draws 
scores  around  him. 

The  Capitol  this  day  presented  an  imposing  and  sol- 
emn appearance.  Every  seat  in  the  Senate  under  the 
galleries  was  literally  choked  with  a  crowded  mass  of 
humanity.  There  is  always  something  partaking  of  the 

310 


IMPEACHMENT  OF  PRESIDENT  JOHNSON.  311 

sublime  in  the  presence  of  a  large  assembly;  and  when 
that  assembly  is  convened  for  some  important  purpose, 
the  bosom  of  everybody  composing  it  stirring  and  vibrat- 
ing with  intense  emotion,  then  the  sublimity  becomes 
of  a  yet  more  overpowering  kind.  How  all  that  we  have 
been  accustomed  to  conceive  of  grand  assemblages 
merges  into  insignificance  when  compared  with  the  im- 
pressiveness  of  this  impeachment  scene ! 

Here  is  a  spectacle  which  the  present  generation  can 
only  witness  once.  The  .wealth,  fashion,  chivalry  of  the  Re- 
public lend  their  fascinating  influences  to  clothe  this  great 
scene  with  grace  and  splendor.  The  galleries  are  daily 
decked  with  the  brightest  beauties  of  the  land,  the  most 
prominent  being  Mrs.  Sprague,  Miss  Chase,  Mrs.  Logan, 
and  Miss  Sherman.  In  the  brilliant  throng  of  learned 
senators  and  representatives,  the  most  prominent  and 
imposing  form  is  that  of  the  noble  Chase.  His  name  is 
dear  to  the  friends  of  humanity  throughout  the  world. 
We  may  exclaim  honestly,  in  the  words  of  Junius:  "Re- 
corded honors  shall  gather  round  his  fame,  and  thicken 
over  him.  It  is  a  solid  fabric,  and  will  support  the  honors 
that  adorn  it."  Not  Richard  of  the  Lion-heart  exhibited 
more  of  personal  courage  combined  with  chivalric  devo- 
tion to  the  right  than  has  the  Chief-Justice  in  the  great 
cause  of  the  slave.  A  life  so  unselfish,  so  self-sacrificing, 
so  devoted  to  the  high  and  sacred  interests  of  humanity, 
carries  with  it  the  charm  of  a  divine  inspiration.  There 
is  a  peculiarity  about  his  delivery.  Some  consider  it  un- 
graceful, others  consider  it  rough,  yet  all  confess  that  it 
has  a  most  powerful  effect.  He  possesses  all  the  qualities 
which  go  to  form  the  perfect  statesman — a  gigantic  in- 
tellect, a  rich  imagination,  a  fine  command  over  the  in- 
flexions of  his  voice,  and,  above  all,  a  devoted  and  fearless 


312  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

attachment  to  truth.  In  common  with  his  illustrious  com- 
peers, many  of  whom  have  gone  to  their  reward,  he  stood 
in  the  front  and  heat  of  the  battle  against  slavery — bore 
the  brunt  of  opposition,  and  endured  the  pelting  of  many 
a  pitiless  storm.  All  honor  to  Salmon  P.  Chase ! 

The  senatorial  jurors  who  participate  in  this  great 
event  exhibit  great  variety  of  temperament  and  character, 
but  a  oneness  of  purpose.  Each  has  his  medallion,  but 
they  seem  set  in  a  common  frame. 

Henry  Wilson — you  can  not  hear  him  for  a  moment 
without  being  sure  that  he  is  in  sympathy  with  everything 
that  is  amiable  and  good.  Wilson  appears  to  be  about 
fifty  years  old.  He  is  of  robust  frame,  and  his  features 
are  expressive.  His  voice  is  clear  and  round,  though 
not  powerful.  Anthony,  of  Rhode  Island,  is  slenderly 
built,  scholarly,  and  journalistic  in  appearance.  He  is  a 
cultivated  orator.  Conness  is  a  stout,  broad-shouldered, 
slovenly-dressed  character;  but  if  he  dresses  badly,  his 
addresses  are  able  and  conclusive.  Nye  is  the  Momus 
of  the  Senate, -a  jolly,  rollicking,  devil-may-care  sort  of 
fellow,  on  good  terms  with  himself  and  the  rest  of  man- 
kind. 

Sumner's  magnificent  head  attracts  the  eyes  of  the 
spectators.  His  fearless  disregard  of  consequences  in  the 
discharge  of  every  duty  was  clearly  manifested  in  his 
speech  to-day.  As  he  uttered  some  of  those  rousing  sen- 
tences, the  perspiration  stood  in  beads  upon  his  brow. 
Sumner  has  the  look  of  a  student  schooled  in  philology 
and  science. 

Morton,  judging  from  his  haggard  appearance,  looks 
like  a  man  of  seventy,  though  he  is  not  yet  fifty-four  years 
of  age.  He  has  been  called  to  endure  afflictions  of  no 
ordinary  severity.  He  is  evidently  a  man  of  extensive 


IMPEACHMENT  OF  PRESIDENT  JOHNSON.  313 

reading  and  discerning  judgment.  The  share  which  Mr. 
Morton  had  in  the  subjection  of  the  Rebellion  and  the 
splendid  zeal  he  evinced  for  the  soldiers  of  his  State,  will 
hand  down  his  name  to  posterity  as  one  of  the  greatest 
benefactors  of  the  age.  Senator  Morton  is  an  intellectual 
speaker.  His  speeches  are  always  composed  of  a  consecu- 
tive chain  of  reasoning;  they  are  also  distinguished  by 
good  sense.  He  possesses  a  firm  and  masculine  character 
of  mind,  accompanied  with  a  frank  and  fearless  hon- 
esty. 

Fessenden,  a  quiet  and  unpretending-looking  man, 
sits  beside  Morton.  Being  naturally  phlegmatic  in  tem- 
perament, he  has  few  or  none  of  the  qualities  necessary 
to  constitute  a  popular  orator.  He  has  long  been  looked 
up  to  by  the  moderate  Republicans,  who  attach  con- 
siderable weight  to  his  opinions.  Johnson,  of  Maryland, 
is  considerably  advanced  in  years,  and  in  personal  appear- 
ance presents  a  hoary  head  and  the  venerable  aspect  of 
age.  He  is  a  man  of  superior  abilities  and  strong  mental 
endowments.  Sprague,  though  possessing  a  slender 
frame,  is  well  proportioned,  and  remarkable  for  a  native 
gracefulness  of  manner.  His  complexion  is  fair,  his  fea- 
tures regular,  his  eyes  small  and  lively,  of  a  dark  blue 
color.  He  makes  few  speeches. 

Chandler,  of  Michigan,  the  inveterate  foe  of  England, 
is  one  of  the  most  prominent  characters  in  the  Senate. 
His  figure  is  erect  and  tall ;  but  his  manner  would  not  im- 
press a  stranger  with  the  idea  of  his  possessing  a  peerless 
intellect.  His  voice  is  good  and  often  powerful,  and  he 
occasionally  gets  off  some  flights  singularly  eloquent  and 
powerful. 

Senator  Sherman  is  one  of  the  most  gifted  and  states- 
manlike members.  He  is  of  slender  frame,  and  his  fea- 


314  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

tures  are  spare,  but  very  expressive.     He  wields  a  vast 
power  on  all  subjects. 

THE  MANAGERS. 

Among  the  Congressional  managers,  Bingham  is  most 
rhetorical.  His  voice  excels  both  in  melody  and  com- 
pass, and  its  nice  modulations  are  happily  blended  with 
that  grace  of  action  which  is  said  to  be  the  chief  requi- 
sition of  the  finished  orator.  He  never  falters  at  a  single 
word,  and  his  elocution  is  perfect.  Logan,  though  he 
is  not  above  the  medium  height,  yet  his  erect,  symmet- 
rical, and  graceful  form,  his  open,  generous  countenance 
and  splendid  eye,  mark  him,  even  in  a  crowd,  as  an  extraor- 
dinary man.  His  voice  is  unrivaled  in  melody  and  flexi- 
bility, and  accommodates  itself  with  perfect  accuracy  to 
every  sentiment  which  he  utters.  His  address  the  other 
day,  which  has  been  so  outrageously  misrepresented,  was 
a  fine  effort.  There  was  a  solemnity  and  earnestness  in 
his  manner;  there  was  the  same  in  his  eye  and  beaming 
through  his  countenance;  there  was  a  grace  and  appro- 
priateness of  gesticulation  and  an  incomparable  majesty 
pervading  his  whole  manner, — all  of  which,  combined, 
made  the  speech  one  of  the  best  yet  delivered. 

Evarts,  of  the  President's  counsel,  in  personal  looks, 
is  a  vitalized  ghost.  He  is  slender,  tall,  thin,  and  awakens 
emotion  in  the  mind  of  the  stranger  by  his  physical  feeble- 
ness and  infirmity.  His  voice,  at  first  weak,  increases  in 
strength,  until  all  at  once  it  loses  its  sepulchral  qualities, 
and  bursts  forth  in  a  blaze  of  ardor,  until  every  nook  and 
corner  of  the  Senate  Chamber  and  gallery  are  filled  with 
his  animated  and  electric  words.  In  emphasis,  Mr.  Evarts 
is  unsurpassed.  A  power  is  put  into  certain  words  which 
is  felt  by  the  crowd.  But  who  shall  attempt  to  describe 


IMPEACHMENT  OF  PRESIDENT  JOHNSON.  315 

either  the  pleader,  his  argument,  or  the  effect  produced 
on  the  vast  assembly?  Who  could  portray  the  simple, 
inartificial  manner,  the  lightning  glance  of  the  eye,  the 
glorious  climax,  or  the  loud  burst  of  feeling  among  the 
President's  friends  like  the  roaring  of  the  sea?  Stanbery 
is  a  profound  advocate,  and  his  voice  possesses  .volume 
and  a  silvery  sweetness. 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Boutwell  is  prepossessing,  and 
even  commanding.  His  figure  and  address  are  dignified. 
His  voice,  when  under  full  inspiration,  is  powerful,  melo- 
dius,  and  well  modulated.  His  action  is  chaste  and  ap- 
propriate. His  style  is  masculine  and  unaffected.  His 
enunciation  is  so  distinct  that  no  one  need  miss  a  word 
he  says. 

Butler's  appearance  does  not  indicate  talent  or  energy. 
He  is  too  fat,  and  has  the  look  of  the  man  who  was  fond 
of  English  roast-beef.  His  voice  is  strong,  but  harsh,  and 
action  energetic  and  graceful,  with  the  exception  of  some 
tremendous  thumps  on  the  table  near  which  he  stands. 
The  speech  I  heard  him  deliver  was  carefully  prepared. 
Before  he  speaks  long,  the  hearers  become  deeply  inter- 
ested. I  never  heard  a  lawyer  who  could  worry  a  witness 
with  tough,  knotty  law  questions  like  Butler.  Groesbeck 
is  faultless  in  style,  possessing  all  the  graces  of  elocution 
and  utterance. 

Judge  Curtiss  is  confessedly  the  ablest  lawyer  on  the 
President's  side.  The  unusual  breadth  of  his  forehead,  de- 
noting great  strength  of  mathematical  calculation,  and 
above  this  the  arch  of  imagination,  spreading  itself  out  in 
as  fine  a  style  as  in  the  .busts  of  our  finest  poets, — all  these 
render  it  impossible  to  study  his  face  without  perceiving 
the  stamp  of  genius.  The  appearance  of  Judge  Curtiss 
rivets  attention.  The  eye  kindling  into  unusual  bril- 


316  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

liancy,  the  countenance  beaming  with  intelligence,  the 
whole  man  laboring  to  give  utterance  to  some  mighty 
conception, — all  force  the  hearer  to  confess  the  orator's 
power,  and  to  feel  that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  a  master 
spirit  of  the  age.  Judge  Curtiss  is  no  dwarf,  physically 
or  mentally. 

Wilson,  of  Iowa,  possesses  a  remarkably  simple  style 
of  delivery.  His  frame  of  mind  evidently  varies.  Now, 
he  is  solemn  as  eternity;  then,  his  wit,  of  which  the  fund 
seems  inexhaustible,  will  escape  and  move  the  risible 
muscles  of  his  auditors.  When  he  pleases,  he  can  dabble 
in  mud;  and  when  he  pleases,  he  can  cull  a  flower. 

Honest  old  Ben  Wade  is  undoubtedly  the  most  noted 
of  American  politicians.  The  name  he  has  maintained 
a  score  of  years;  and  when  it  is  considered  that  he  is 
neither  a  profound  speaker,  nor  an  acute  logician,  nor  a 
brilliant  orator,  nor,  we  may  add,  an  enthusiastic  vision- 
ary, we  can  only  account  for  his  popularity  on  grounds 
that  are  creditable  to  himself  and  his  friends.  His  oratory 
is  not  of  the  Edward  Everett  school;  every  sentence  is 
not  rubbed  down,  polished,  and  varnished.  His  voice  is 
distinct;  no  well-bred  whisper  either  opens  or  closes  Mr. 
Wade's  speeches.  He  has  great  self-possession,  and 
without  becoming  too  colloquial,  he  seems  to  be  familiarly 
addressing  every  individual.  His  speeches  sound  like  the 
proclamations  of  Sinai ;  his  appeals  are  often  melting  and 
powerful;  and  he  occasionally  rises  to  the  boldest  and 
most  energetic  strains  of  oratory.  This  proud  old  man  is 
in  hearty  sympathy  with  every  good  and  glorious  move- 
ment. In  an  interview  with  him,  among  other  things  he 
declared  himself  in  favor  of  the  immediate  relief  of  the 
Irish-Americans,  who,  for  trifling  causes,  are  dying  in 
British  prisons.  Honor  to  old  honest  Ben  Wade ! 


IMPEACHMENT  OF  PRESIDENT  JOHNSON.  317 

Among  the  members  of  the  other  House  who  are 
always  on  hand  during  the  trial,  I  noticed  Colfax,  the  wise 
presiding  officer,  skillful  politician,  and  gifted  orator; 
Garfield,  one  of  nature's  noblemen — few  have  power  to 
make  the  strings  of  the  human  heart  vibrate  in  an  equal 
degree;  Judge  Welker,  the  model  and  efficient  member 
for  the  Fourteenth  District — his  voice  is  good,  his  man- 
ner personal  and  pleasant.  There  is  one  thing  noteworthy 
in  Welker  besides  his  ability  and  patriotism,  and  that  is 
the  beauty  of  his  life.  He  is  decidedly  among  the  most 
influential,  the  ablest,  and  most  useful  members  of  Con- 
gress. He  takes  pride  and  special  pleasure  in  accommo- 
dating his  constituents.  Eckley,  Beatty,  the  modest 
soldier  Schenck;  Buckland,  Delano,  and  the  other  Ohio 
members,  are  ever  at  their  posts.  The  noble  Stevens, 
having  his  soul's  life  in  the  great  cause,  the  one  medium 
of  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  the  early  friend  of  the  Negro, 
is  seldom  absent.  The  future  historian,  in  writing  the 
history  of  these  eventful  times,  will  place  the  name  of 
Thaddeus  Stevens  where  the  historian  of  American  in- 
dependence has  recently  inscribed  the  name  of  Wash- 
ington. 

The  Adjutant-General  is  a  tall,  cheerful,  bright-eyed, 
pleasant,  courteous  old  man,  who  has  been  in  the  service 
forty  years.  Remarkable,  as  he  is,  as  the  bold  and  re- 
doubtable champion  of  the  President,  he  is  equally  re- 
markable for  the  gentleness  of  his  manners.  In  conver- 
sation he  is  delightfully  pleasant.  I  called  his  attention 
to  the  testimony  of  Karsner,  of  Delaware,  the  musical  wit- 
ness. He  laughed  heartily,  and  said:  "I  only  met  him 
once  before  this  difficulty,  and  that  was  forty  years  ago. 
I  had  forgotten  him  until  he  referred  to  some  incidents 
in  my  life,  which  then  took  place.  Karsner  was  a  hostler, 


318  UNDER   THREE.  FLAGS.  , 

a  coarse,  rough,  uncouth  fellow,  and  had  just  married  a 
dear  sweet  girl,  everybody  wondering  that  she  would 
have  so  ungainly  a  creature."  He  then  went  on  to  say 
that  the  testimony  of  Karsner  was  in  some  things  far  from 
being  true,  acknowledging,  however,  that  part  which  re- 
ferred to  "licking  that  feller  out."  Whatever  may  be  the 
result  of  this  judicial  proceeding,  there  is  one  thing  cer- 
tain, General  Thomas  will  never  again  be  caught  in  the 
same  business,  even  though  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet  is  held 
forth  as  the  tempting  reward. 

JOHN  SHERMAN. 

In  those  days  when  I  commenced  my  public  life,  there 
was  but  one  prominent  man  in  Ohio,  John  Sherman ;  and 
now,  after  the  lapse  of  more  than  thirty  years,  he  is  still 
conspicuous  for  his  great  statesmanship.  His  first  term 
in  Congress  made  him  famous,  and  he  has  maintained  his 
reputation  up  to  this  day.  What  a  noble  spirit  was  yours, 
John  Sherman,  what  perseverance,  what  high  qualities, 
what  rare  characteristics!  Your  rightful  place  was  the 
White  House,  and  often  have  your  friends  tried  to  place 
their  beloved  leader  there.  As  for  high-mindedness,  con- 
sistency, and  honor,  there  were  none  superior.  There 
was  much  in  his  early  life  to  challenge  applause  and  deep 
sympathy.  The  eagle  swoop  with  which  he  swept  down 
upon  Kansas  is  a  part  of  American  history.  John  Sher- 
man was  one  of  the  makers  of  the  Republican  party.  I 
know  much  has  been  said  of  his  manner  that  is  unjust. 
He  is  no  iceberg,  of  which  two-thirds  are  under  water 
and  only  one-third  visible.  His  speaking  has  been  called 
cold.  He  really  makes  a  splendid  speech,  careful,  mod- 
erate, complete.  I  know  he  is  severely  logical,  but  the 
links  of  his  arguments  are  frequently  set  on  fire.  It  is 


GENERAL  JAMES  A.    GARFIELD.  319 

true  that  he  does  not  commence  his  speeches  with  an 
oremus,  yell  through  a  dies  irce,  and  end  with  a  warwhoop, 
V(E  metis  fashion ;  but  such  oratory  is  not  worthy  of  such 
great  statesmen.  He  is  a  man  of  fine  presence,  with  a 
keen  eye  and  bold  forehead,  vigorous  in  his  gestures,  and 
in  his  tone  just  suggesting  a  self-possessed  combativeness 
which  commands  attention. 

GENERAL  JAMES  A.  GARFIELD. 

I  was  well  acquainted  with  General  James  A.  Garfield, 
f  and  heard  him  speak  niany  times.  Tall  and  well-built, 
with  a  magnificent  head,  a  clean  and  carrying  voice, 
sonorous  and  deep  tones,  neatly  dressed,  he  always  at- 
tracted attention.  His  speeches  breathed  the  loftiest 
sentiments. 

I  heard  him  once  at  Monroeville,  Ohio,  deliver  a  great 
speech  upon  the  tariff.  He  used  a  stick,  and  by  measur- 
ing it,  showed  the  various  effects  of  the  tariff.  It  was  a 
masterly  effort. 

President  Garfield  was  a  pure  and  upright  man ;  with- 
out a  spot  or  stain,  he  went  bravely,  proudly  through  all 
his  trials.  English  statesmen  are  proud  of  the  courage 
of  Hampden  and  of  the  fortitude  of  Russell.  Americans 
are  justly  so  of  Garfield. 

I  was  in  Rome  when  I  heard  of  the  attempted  assassi- 
nation of  President  Garfield.  There  was  sorrow  in  the 
air.  Excited  multitudes  would  embrace  each  other  on 
the  streets,  and  repeat,  "Garfield  is  dead."  The  Italian 
Parliament  took  action.  The  House  was  draped  in  black. 
I  tried  to  calm  the  Americans  at  my  hotel,  quoting  Gar- 
field's  memorable  words,  "God  reigns!"  saying  that  the 
sympathy  of  millions  would  be  as  soft  rushes  to  the  feet 
of  his  family,  and  that  the  blessings  of  a  thousand  saints 
would  hang  around  them  like  shields. 


320  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

VICE-PRESIDENT  HENRY  WILSON. 

One  of  the  noblest,  manliest,  and  most  conscientious 
men  I  ever  met,  and  I  met  him  often,  was  Henry  Wilson, 
Vice-President  of  the  United  States.  The  loftiest  pre- 
cepts of  Christianity  were  in  him  illustrated,  and  con- 
firmed by  the  most  consistent  example.  Early  in  life  he 
espoused  the  anti-slavery  cause,  and  through  all  its  dis- 
appointments and  defeats  was  its  fearless  champion. 
Never  in  this  land,  where  the  courage  of  Lovejoy  and  the 
bold  actions  of  John  Brown  have  challenged  the  admira- 
tion of  the  people,  was  there  a  greater  hero  than  Henry 
Wilson.  Never  was  defeat  borne  with  greater  resignation. 
I  have  listened  to  him  by  the  hour  as  he  related  the  his- 
tory of  his  youth,  of  his  learning  to  read  when  a  boy,  of 
his  apprenticeship  to  a  shoemaker,  and  of  his  political 
success.  It  was  impossible  to  look  at  his  frank  counte- 
nance and  his  soft,  speaking  eyes,  without  reading  his 
character  in  them.  A  purer,  better  American  never 
breathed. 

GENERAL  PHIL  SHERIDAN. 

I  knew  General  Sheridan.  My  first  ministerial  ap- 
pointment was  not  far  from  his  home.  His  is  the  third 
loftiest  name  in  the  beadroll  of  the  leaders  of  the  Civil 
War.  No  one  would  have  judged  from  his  modest  youth, 
shy  and  retiring  nature,  that  he  would  become  so  famous. 
Insignificant  in  stature,  with  a  head  shaped  like  a  cannon- 
ball,  he  was  not  particularly  attractive,  yet  he  was  the 
delight  of  all  the  sunny-eyed  girls  in  the  county.  Phil 
Sheridan  became  distinguished  through  his  inflexible  pur- 
pose and  iron  will.  To  a  most  enthusiastic  love  of  coun- 
try, he  added,  even  when  a  child,  a  noble  passion  for  arms. 
The  first  time  I  met  him  after  the  war  was  at  the  wed- 


GENERAL  PHIL  SHERIDAN.  321 

ding  of  General  Miles,  in  Cleveland,  Ohio,  and  afterwards 
in  Chicago,  when,  by  special  invitation,  I  spent  some  time 
with  him. 

The  name  of  General  Phil  Sheridan  always  recalls  to 
me  a  curious  experience  I  had  in  London  several  years 
ago.  I  went  one  evening  to  the  Irish  Literary  Club,  in 
Bloomsbury  Square,  near  which  I  was  stopping,  to  hear 
Mr.  Justin  McCarthy  read  a  paper  on  the  "Irish  Peasant." 
The  club,  as  to  politics  and  profession,  was  a  mixed  one; 
but,  as  I  found  out  afterwards,  the  Tories  were  in  the 
majority.  Among  the  members  there  were  distinguished 
authors,  generals,  scholars,  and  members  of  Parliament. 
I  was  called  upon  by  the  chairman,  Mr.  Graves,  the  son  of 
the  Protestant  Bishop  of  Limerick,  to  say  a  few  words 
about  the  Irish  in  America.  In  the  course  of  my  remarks, 
which  bore  upon  the  important  parts  played  by  the  Irish 
peasants  in  American  history,  I  referred  in  glowing  terms 
to  General  Sheridan  as  me  son  of  an  Irish  peasant,  who 
had  risen  to  distinction  in  the  United  States.  I  said  that 
there  was  nothing  like  it  in  England ;  that  Sheridan  had  al- 
ways been  proud  of  his  Irish  origin,  and  that  he  had  often 
said  he  would  like  to  march  an  army  through  the  streets  of 
London  to  avenge  her  wrongs!  I  felt  immediately  that 
I  was  treading  on  dangerous  ground.  There  was  a  com- 
motion in  the  room,  and  as  soon  as  I  sat  down  the  chair- 
man arose  and  said,  apologetically,  that  they  always  al- 
lowed their  friends  from  across  the  water  the  greatest 
latitude.  The  London  Methodist  Times,  referring  to  the 
incident;  said  that  American  Methodist  preachers  were 
never  silent  when  the  principles  of  righteousness  were 
concerned. 

21 


Chapter  XX. 

GENERAL    ROBERT   E.   LEE    AT  THE   CLOSE   OF 
THE  REBELLION. 

ABOUT  forty  years  ago  a  prize  was  offered  by  one  of 
the  Italian  universities  for  the  best  essay  on  the  sub- 
ject, "What  individual,  since  the  beginning  of  the  world, 
has  most  occupied  the  attention  of  mankind?"  The  prize 
was  bestowed  upon  the  author  of  the  essay  who  main- 
tained the  superior  claims  of  Napoleon  to  this  world-wide 
description  of  fame.  If,  however,  a  prize  were  offered 
now  upon  the  analagous,  but  more  limited  question, 
"What  individual,  from  April,  1861,  to  July,  1865,  most 
occupied  the  pens  and  tongues  of  Southerners?"  the  an- 
swer would  be  given  by  acclamation,  "General  Lee." 

In  no  small  degree  he  was  hailed  by  his  enthusiastic 
admirers  as  the  hope  of  the  Confederacy.  He  was  the 
pillar  and  center  of  the  Rebellion.  A  thousand  tele- 
graphic wires  trembled  at  the  impulse  of  his  thoughts. 

General  Lee,  of  all  the  Confederate  leaders,  held  and 
deserved  the  foremost  place,  and  commanded  more  en- 
tirely the  confidence  and  approbation  of  the  Southern 
people.  Descended  from  a  race  of  patriots  and  soldiers, 
he  always  displayed,  whenever  the  opportunity  offered, 
high  professional  ability.  That  a  man  of  such  brilliant 
talents,  of  sagacity,  of  address,  of  honor,  and  of  an  illus- 
trious Revolutionary  ancestry,  should  find  a  conscientious 
reason  m  th'e  doctrine  of  State  rights  to  engage  in  a  des- 
perate conspiracy  against  the  Union  evoked  by  the  sword 

322 


GENERAL  ROBERT  E.   LEE.  323 

of  Washington,  is  one  of  the  wonders  and  mysteries  of 
the  age. 

No  evidence  is  so  satisfactory  as  that  which  is  ob- 
tained from  the  lips  of  an  opponent;  and,  therefore,  we 
attach  importance  to  what  Confederate  General  Lee  said 
of  our  most  distinguished  generals  and  statesmen.  When 
the  army  of  General  Sherman,  with  which  I  was  con- 
nected, was  making  its  famous  homeward  march  to  Wash- 
ington, it  rested  for  a  few  days  in  Richmond.  Accom- 
panied by  General  Gear^,  afterwards  governor  of  Penn- 
sylvania, and  provided  with  a  letter  of  introduction  from 
General  Hazen,  who  knew  Lee  at  West  Point,  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  call  and  interview  the  Rebel  commander. 
Ringing  the  bell  with  considerable  anxiety,  I  awaited  the 
result  of  my  rash  attempt  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  most 
gallant  and  most  illustrious  man  of  the  South.  Quickly 
there  appeared  at  the  door  a  good-looking  mulatto,  who 
awaited  my  demand. 

"Can  I  see  General  Lee?"  was  the  simple  question  I 
put  on  this  occasion.  "This  is  not  the  regular  day  when 
he  receives  company,  and  he  has  not  yet  entertained  any 
visitors,  but — "  and  he  surveyed  me  with  a  hesitating  air, 
not  knowing  what  to  say  next.  I  observed,  "Perhaps  he 
would  see  a  chaplain  of  Sherman's  army  in  his  private 
parlor  for  a  few  moments."  "Your  name,  sir?"  he  asked. 
"Chaplain  Pepper,  of  the  Fifteenth  Corps  of  the  Army  of 
the  Tennessee."  Giving  him  General  Hazen's  letter,  he 
quickly  disappeared,  and  in  a  few  moments  returned,  saying 
it  was  all  right,  and  for  me  to  walk  into  the  parlor.  I  took 
my  seat  upon  a  very  plain  sofa.  The  house  was  sii 
itself.  There  were  no  rich  carpets,  soft  c 
furniture.  There  was  not  a  wall  decoratj^r$Sbthing  to 
attract  attention, — a  few  chairs,  a  table  cftftfred  with  jpifrf  p££T 


324  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

tures  of  battle-fields;  but  absolutely  nothing  that  be- 
tokened that  this  was  the  home  of  the  mightiest  man  in 
the  South. 

My  musings  were  soon  interrupted  by  General  Lee, 
who,  with  an  easy  and  beautiful  simplicity  of  manner, 
bade  me  welcome  to  his  home.  The  events  of  this  long 
and  disastrous  war  had  left  their  traces  on  his  face.  If 
there  is  anything  in  the  science  of  physiognomy,  there 
was  certainly  a  remarkable  correspondence  between  the 
person  of  General  Lee  and  his  mental  and  moral  constitu- 
tion. Both  bespoke  the  worthy  development  of  the  entire 
man ;  no  feature  was  found  in  excess,  and  none  defective ; 
dignified  in  carriage,  with  an  elastic  step,  and  easy  and 
graceful  in  all  his  movements.  His  features  were  regu- 
larly handsome,  his  complexion  fair.  A  full-orbed,  beam- 
ing, and  ample  forehead;  a  mouth  that  indicated  great 
sweetness  and  firmness;  and  diffused,  over  all,  a  radiant 
and  happy  expression  that  bespoke  the  clear  intelligence 
of  his  mind  and  the  benevolence  of  his  heart.  It  was  with 
a  thrilling  interest  that  I  now  beheld  this  celebrated'  man. 
He  seemed  still  to  be  in  the  prime  of  life;  but  his  mag- 
nificent hair  was  silvered,  the  fire  in  his  brilliant  eyes  was 
in  some  measure  dimmed,  and  there  were  marks  of  age 
upon  his  brow.  There  was  dignity  in  his  bearing,  a 
grandeur  in  the  poise  of  his  head,  which  a  consciousness 
of  his  position  would  impart.  At  the  same  time  I  thought 
there  was  a  slight  expression  of  sadness  piercing  through 
his  smile.  Perhaps  he  was  beginning  to  see  the  hollow- 
ness  of  all  that  he  had  adored,  and  to  experience  how 
many  thorns  line  the  pillow  of  a  hopeless  and  disastrous 
revolution. 

I  conversed  with  him  upon  a  variety  of  topics,  upon 
all  of  which  he  expressed  opinions.  He  was  very  positive 


GENERAL   ROBERT  E.   LEE.  325 

in  his  convictions,  and  seemed  to  have  weighed  every 
sentence  with  studied  care.  The  telegraph  wires  hav- 
ing recently  announced  the  news  of  Lincoln's  assassina- 
tion, this  naturally  was  the  first  subject  of  conversation. 
In  speaking  of  the  martyred  President,  he  said:  "The 
death  of  that  eminent  citizen  has  filled  me  with  horror. 
If  there  were  blemishes  in  his  character,  his  life  exhibited 
some  splendid  and  rare  virtues.  He  was  one  of  the  most 
extraordinary  men  that  ever  lived  in  our  country.  His 
heart  was  grand  and  large.  He  was  constitutionally  pen- 
sive. Had  he  been  spared,  the  South  would  have  been 
treated  with  honorable  propriety  and  with  gallant  gener- 
osity; his  good-will  and  friendliness  would  have  marked 
his  treatment  of  the  Southern  people." 

He  pronounced  Booth  "a  cowardly  ruffian,"  affirm- 
ing that  "the  soldiers  of  the  Southern  army  and  the  peo- 
ple regard  the  murder  of  Lincoln,  not  only  as  a  crime 
against  our  Christian  civilization  and  our  common  hu- 
manity, but  that  his  loss  at  this  moment  was  a  terrible  loss 
to  the  vanquished,  who  would  have  to  bear  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  cruel,  cold-blooded  assassination;  that  the 
spirit  of  clemency,  moderation,  and  of  conciliation  dis- 
played by  the  President  were  virtues  not  to  be  found  in 
his  successor.  Let  the  avenger's  arms,"  he  continued  to 
say,  his  eyes  moistened  with  tears,  "fall  upon  the  guilty. 
Should  this  be  the  course  adopted  by  the  authorities  at 
Washington,  their  greatest  victory  is  yet  before  them;" 
that  "a  more  shining  page  in  their  annals  would  be  writ- 
ten, and  that  the  sublimest  example  of  magnanimity  and 
self-government  would  be  set." 

To  my  question,  "Do  you  think  the  Rebellion  is 
ended?"  he  replied,  very  emphatically,  "Yes,  sir;  and  had 
it  not  been  for  the  politicians  it  would  never  have  been 


326  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

commenced."  The  politicians  to  whom  he  referred  were 
Davis,  Yancey,  Breckinridge,  and  Toombs,  and  others 
whose  names  he  mentioned.  He  went  on  to  say :  "I  was 
opposed  to  war  at  the  outset.  I  wept  when  I  heard 
of  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sumter!  I  sought  retire- 
ment, so  that  I  might  not  see  or  hear  any  of  the  political 
leaders,  the  great  end  and  aim  of  whose  statesmanship 
was  to  precipitate  the  havoc  that  subsequently  swept  their 
fields  and  cities.  But  when  Virginia,  my  native  State,  se- 
ceded, there  was  only  one  course  for  me  to  pursue; 
namely,  to  follow  her  fortunes." 

General  Lee  now  adverted  to  the  character  of  General 
Grant,  of  whom  he  spoke  in  the  most  friendly  words  and 
terms.  He  ascribed  to  him  the  most  noble  attributes  of 
American  manhood,  saying  that  he  possessed  all  the 
requisites  and  talents  for  the  organization  of  armies.  At 
the  present  hour,  when  not  a  few  apprehensive  gentlemen 
and  reckless  partisans  are  charging  the  illustrious  Ex- 
President  with  Csesarism  and  with  desperate  ambitions  to 
overthrow  the  Government,  it  will  be  some  satisfaction 
to  his  many  friends  to  learn  the  high  estimate  in  which  he 
was  held  by  the  Southern  chieftain.  In  the  generous 
terms  accorded  to  the  impoverished  South,  Grant  won 
for  himself  imperishable  renown,  and  they  furnish  a  shin- 
ing example  of  how  bravely  he  could  fight  his  country's 
battles,  and  of  how  nobly  he  could  sympathize  with  the 
vanquished.  In  no  quarter  of  the  world  has  there  been 
such  magnanimity  as  that  shown  by  Grant,  and  of  all  the 
laurels  won  by  the  mighty  captain  in  our  immortal  strug- 
gle, the  greenest  and  freshest  of  them  all  is  his  splendid 
conduct  to  Lee  and  his  soldiers. 

"I  wish,"  said  General  Lee,  "to  do  simple  justice  to 
General  Grant,  when  I  say  that  his  treatment  of  the  Army 


GENERAL   ROBERT  E.    LEE.  327 

of  Southern  Virginia  is  without  a  parallel  in  the  history 
of  the  civilized  world.  When  my  poor  soldiers,  with 
famished  faces,  had  neither  food  nor  raiment,  it  was  then 
that  General  Grant  immediately  issued  the  humane  order 
that  forty  thousand  rations  should  be  immediately  fur- 
nished to  the  impoverished  troops.  And  that  was  not  all 
of  his  magnanimity.  I  was  giving  directions  to  one  of 
my  staff  officers,  when  making  out  the  list  of  things  to  be 
surrendered,  to  include  the  horses.  At  that  moment, 
General  Grant,  who  seemed  to  be  paying  no  attention  to 
what  was  transpiring,  quickly  said :  'No,  no,  General !  not 
a  horse,  not  one — keep  them  all !  Your  people  will  need 
them  for  the  spring  crops !'  " 

It  was  a  scene  never  to  be  forgotten  to  watch  Lee's 
manner,  when,  with  a  spirit  of  chivalry  equal  to  his  skill 
and  gallantry,  he  told,  with  moistened  eyes,  this  and  many 
other  instances  of  the  magnanimity  so  nobly  displayed  by 
his  illustrious  rival. 

The  conversation  turned  to  General  Sherman.  The 
Southern  papers  were  criticising  very  sharply  Sherman's 
march  through  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas,  and  I  asked 
General  Lee  what  his  opinion  was  of  the  great  flanker. 
He  said,  in  substance:  "It  has  been  observed  that  there 
is  no  character  so  uniformly  bright  as  not  to  possess  some 
dark  stain;  but  while  we  assent  to  the  truth  of  this  ob- 
servation, that  charity  which  hopeth  all  things  should 
lead  us  to  believe  that  there  are  no  hearts  so  darkly  vi- 
cious as  not  to  be  illumined  by  some  beams  of  the  light  of 
virtue.  To  suppose  Sherman  an  exception  to  this  rule 
would  be  illiberal.  The  unbounded  license  which  he  al- 
lowed his  soldiers  in  the  States  of  Georgia  and  the  Caro- 
linas has  greatly  aggravated  the  horrors  of  war.  As  a 
strategist  and  commander  of  men,  Sherman  has  displayed 


328  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

the  highest  order  of  military  genius.  Throughout  his 
recent  campaign,  when  he  had  to  pass  through  an  un- 
known country,  cross  rivers,  support  his  troops,  etc.,  he 
certainly  exhibited  a  singleness  of  purpose,  a  fertility  of 
resource,  which  wins  him  a  high  place  among  the  soldiers 
of  history.  He  seems  to  be  cool  without  apathy,  cautious 
without  being  dilatory,  patient  without  being  dispirited, 
personally  brave  without  being  rash.  Judged  by  Napo- 
leon's test,  'Who  did  all  that?'  he  is,  in  my  opinion,  the 
most  successful  of  the  Federal  officers  who  have  played 
a  prominent  part  in  the  history  of  the  war." 

In  the  course  of  the  conversation  he  spoke  of  Sheri- 
dan as  a  most  brilliant  and  magnetic  commander.  I  asked 
him  who  was  the  greatest  of  the  Federal  generals. 

"Indeed,  sir,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  General 
Grant.  Both  as  a  gentleman  and  as  an  organizer  of  vic- 
torious war,  General  Grant  has  excelled  all  your  most 
noted  soldiers.  He  has  exhibited  more  true  courage, 
more  real  greatness  of  mind,  more  consummate  prudence 
from  the  outset,  and  more  heroic  bravery,  than  any  one 
on  your  side." 

To  the  question,  "What  was  the  cause  of  the  failure 
of  the  South?"  the  General  smilingly  said :  "I  am  not  a 
very  good  extemporaneous  speaker,  nor  am  I  a  very  good 
extemporaneous  answerer  of  questions.  The  most  con- 
spicuous reason  was  the  superiority  in  men  and  in  re- 
sources of  the  North.  The  United  States  had  all  the 
advantages — a  land  of  boundless  wealth,  cities  secure 
from  the  horrors  of  civil  war,  and  a  constant  stream  of 
emigrants  to  fill  up  the  depleted  ranks  of  the  armies. 
With  five  to  one  against  them,  the  Southerners  performed 
a  mighty  work,  and  made  a  gigantic  step  toward  their  in- 
dependence. 


GENERAL  ROBERT  E.   LEE.  329 

"Another  cause  lay  in  the  vanity  of  many  of  our  peo- 
ple. The  first  battles  of  the  war  being  favorable  to  us, 
the  South  was  wild  with  confidence,  and  the  whole  coun- 
try was  thrown  into  a  ferment  of  excitement.  It  was 
doubtful,  indeed,  whether  one  in  a  thousand  of  our  people 
supposed  for  a  moment  that  there  was  any  doubt  of  an 
immediate  and  successful  termination  to  the  struggle. 
The  public  meetings  were  in  every  case  too  enthusiastic. 
The  people  were  carried  away  by  acclamation.  The  cheer- 
ing proved  to  our  folly.  This  excess  of  confidence  lost 
us  New  Orleans  and  many  other  cities. 

"A  much  more  serious  difficulty  arose  from  the  mis- 
taken view  of  the  Southern  cause  taken  by  the  philan- 
thropists of  the  Old  World.  They  were  led  to  believe 
that  we  were  fighting  for  the  perpetuity  of  slavery,  and 
that  the  establishment  of  the  Confederacy  would  lead  to 
the  reopening  of  the  African  slave-trade.  This  opinion 
shook  the  faith  of  great  and  good  men  in  the  humanity 
and  righteousness  of  the  South.  The  conscript  law  was 
another  effective  check  to  our  success.  Instead  of  being 
a  benefit,  it  was  a  curse,  a  badge  of  disgrace.  The  rich 
were  favored;  falsehood  and  dissimulation  were  its  natu- 
ral results ;  suspicion  and  mistrust  arose  where  confidence 
and  reliance  should  have  happily  prevailed.  The  attitude 
preserved  by  Mr.  Davis  and  other  leaders  in  opposition 
to  the  arming  of  the  Negroes,  a  policy  which  I  always  be- 
lieved to  be  expedient,  proved  to  be  disastrous.  The 
widespread  poverty  of  the  country,  accompanied  by  the 
just  conviction  that  all  further  efforts  were  hopeless, — 
these  and  other  forces  worked  to  one  final  result,  the 
failure  of  the  Confederacy." 

The  conversation  now  took  another  direction.  The 
Confederate  leader  referred  despondingly  to  the  Nation's 


330  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

lack  of  great  statesmen.  I  asked  him  his  estimate  of  the 
distinguished  men  he  had  heard  and  whose  eloquence  had 
revived  the  grand  days  of  oratory.  Speaking  of  Webster 
he  had  said:  "I  never  saw  a  more  striking  object  than 
Webster  in  the  Senate.  The  effect  of  his  fine  figure  and 
princely  air  when  speaking,  was  like  that  of  a  vivid  flash 
in  the  midst  of  darkness.  What  Paganini  was  in  music, 
that  Webster  was  in  oratory — the  one  charmed  Europe 
with  one  string,  the  other  electrified  multitudes  with  his 
eloquence.  He  once  complained  to  me  of  the  wrongs 
done  him  by  the  reporters.  The  world  would  read  what- 
ever bore  his  name,  and  the  grubworms  were  ever  ready 
to  gratify  the  desire  by  fragments,  or  rather  caricatures 
of  his  mighty  eloquence.  His  speeches  indicate  the 
powers  of  the  great  orator;  they  are  lofty,  but  not  im- 
passioned; correct,  but  not  fluent." 

"Henry  Clay  was  every  inch  a  patriot  and  an  orator. 
I  heard  him  on  British  aggression.  Never  certainly  had 
I  ever  beheld  so  powerful  an  exhibition  of  natural  ora- 
tory. The  grace  of  the  attitudes  into  which  he  threw  his 
flexible  figure,  the  striking  gestures  of  his  arms,  and, 
above  all,  the  fire  which  shot  from  his  brilliant  eyes,  im- 
parted an  effect  to  the  continually  changing  accents  of 
his  voice,  of  which  the  most  accomplished  actor  might  be 
proud.  At  one  moment  leaning  forward,  when  stating 
circumstantially  the  grievances  of  which  the  Nation  com- 
plained, and  then  standing  bolt  upright  with  clenched 
hands  and  a  countenance  distorted  with  passion,  he 
poured  out  a  tide  of  invectives.  The  effect  on  his  audi- 
ence was  electric — one  and  all  they  stood  regarding  him 
with  sparkling  eyes  and  trembling  limbs,  as  though  they 
were  listening  to  the  inspired  voice  of  a  prophet.  Henry 
Clay  was  the  greatest  actor  off  the  stage. 


GENERAL  ROBERT  E.   LEE.  331 

"Calhoun  was  the  favorite  of  the  South.  Morally  he 
is  to  be  rated  higher  than  either  Webster  or  Clay.  His 
logic  was  compressed  and  hidden.  The  train  of  reasoning 
he  was  pursuing  seemed  to  be  clear  and  continuous  to 
his  own  mind,  all  its  facts  being  logically  articulated  from 
end  to  end;  but  it  was  only  indicated  to  the  audience. 
It  was  like  a  stream  of  water,  making  its  way  under 
ground  and  showing  itself  now  and  then,  apparently  deep, 
bright,  and  sparkling.  He  was  distinguished  for  his 
power  of  condensation.  Metaphors,  tropes,  and  figures 
of  all  kinds  were  found  in  his  speeches." 

To  the  question,  "Did  you  ever  hear  Bascom,  the 
famous  Methodist  divine?"  he  answered:  "Yes,  I  heard 
him  once  at  a  camp-meeting  in  this  State.  The  people 
came  from  all  quarters  to  behold  the  glory  of  the  new 
sun  which  had  burst  forth  on  the  evangelical  horizon. 
He  was  undoubtedly  a  Christian  Demosthenes,  a  giant 
of  the  pulpit.  Bascom  was  handsome,  and  possessed  in 
his  noble  bearing  and  appearance  that  happy  combina- 
tion of  mildness,  elegance,  and  dignity  which  may  per- 
haps be  expressed  at  once  by  the  word  gracefulness.  I 
have  heard  and  seen  many  fine  orators,  but  Bascom  I 
have  never  seen  equaled,  nor  even  imitated.  It  was  not 
learning,  it  was  not  wit, — it  was  the  untaught  and  un- 
incumbered  incantation  of  genius,  the  mightiest  engine 
of  which  the  earth  can  boast."  General  Lee  told  an  anec- 
dote of  the  great  Virginian,  Patrick  Henry,  which  may 
be  interesting  to  members  of  the  bar.  He  was  in  the 
habit  of  using  tobacco,  and  when  engaged  in  argument 
would  turn  to  some  leading  member  of  the  jury,  who  was 
a  lover  of  the  weed,  and,  in  an  offhand,  familiar  way,  ask 
him  for  a  chew.  The  juryman,  flattered  at  finding  such 
a  similarity  of  tastes  and  habits  between  himself  and  the 


33 2  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

dignified  counsel,  would  follow  his  example,  and  the  good 
impression  made  upon  his  mind  was  not  infrequently 
transferred  from  the  counsel  to  his  cause. 

Our  next  topic  of  conversation  was  the  foreign  ele- 
ment in  the  armies.  Speaking  of  the  Irish,  he  declared 
with  much  feeling  that  the  South  could  not  reconcile  with 
their  notions  of  consistency  and  honor  how  Northern 
Irishmen,  who  were  so  desperately  and  violently  opposed 
to  the  thralldom  of  Britain — the  wrongs  of  Ireland  being 
mosquito-bites  by  the  side  of  the  enormous  injuries  which 
had  been  inflicted  by  the  North  upon  the  South — how 
liberty-loving  Irishmen  could  fight  against  the  Southern- 
ers contending  for  independence  and  equality  of  rights. 
I  suggested  that  the  soldiers  of  Irish  origin  in  our  armies 
were  really  bewildered  to  know  how  Irishmen  who  for 
centuries  had  gallantly  contended  for  the  freedom  of  the 
Celts,  could  be  so  inconsistent  and  recreant  to  every  sense 
of  right  as  to  be  engaged  in  a  war  for  a  Government 
whose  corner-stone  was  slavery.  Besides  that,  though 
Irishmen  were  revolutionists  at  home,  they  were  conserv- 
atives in  the  United  States,  and  that  there  was  a  great 
difference  between  a  war  in  the  interest  of  a  downtrodden 
race  and  that  in  favor  of  the  propagation  of  slavery. 

Adverting  to  the  character  of  the  Irish  soldiers,  the 
general  was  very  enthusiastic,  saying  that  they  played  a 
prominent  part  in  the  wars  of  the  world  for  the  last  three 
centuries,  now  on  one  side,  now  on  the  other.  "The 
Irish  soldier  fights  not  so  much  for  lucre  as  from  a  reck- 
less love  of  adventure,  and,  moreover,  with  a  chivalrous 
devotion  to  the  cause  he  espouses  for  the  time  being. 
Cleburne,  on  our  side,  inherited  the  intrepidity  of  his 
race.  On  a  field  of  battle  he  shone  like  a  meteor  on  a 
clouded  sky!  As  a  dashing  military  man  he  was  all  vir- 


GENERAL  ROBERT  E.   LEE.  333 

tue;  a  single  vice  does  not  stain  him  as  a  warrior.  His 
generosity  and  benevolence  had  no  limits.  The  care 
which  he  took  of  the  fortunes  of  his  officers  and  soldiers, 
from  the  greatest  to  the  least,  was  incessant.  His  integ- 
rity was  proverbial,  and  his  modesty  was  an  equally  con- 
spicuous trait  in  his  character." 

"Meagher  on  your  side,  though  not  Cleburne's  equal 
in  military  genius,  rivaled  him  in  bravery  and  in  the  affec- 
tions of  his  soldiers.  The  gallant  stand  which  his  bold 
brigade  made  on  the  heights  of  Fredericksburg  is  well 
known.  Never  were  men  so  brave.  They  ennobled  their 
race  by  their  splendid  gallantry  on  that  occasion.  Though 
totally  routed,  they  reaped  harvests  of  glory!  Their 
brilliant  though  hopeless  assaults  upon  our  lines  excited 
the  hearty  applause  of  my  officers  and  soldiers,  and  Gen- 
eral Hill  exclaimed,  'There  are  those  d green  flags 

again!"' 

Referring  to  the  great  loss  sustained  by  the  Confed- 
eracy in  the  death  of  Stonewall  Jackson,  General  Lee 
remarked:  "In  surprises,  marches,  and  in  the  art  of  cre- 
ating the  resources  of  war,  Jackson  has  surpassed  the 
level  of  his  age,  and  risen  to  a  comparison  with  Hannibal 
and  Napoleon,  the  two  greatest  commanders  of  ancient 
and  modern  times.  In  every  relation  of  private  and  pub- 
lic life  his  character  was  perfect.  The  South  has  pro- 
duced some  abler  soldiers,  and  a  few  in  point  of  military 
talent  were  his  equals;  but  it  can  not  and  never  could 
boast  of  one  more  beloved ;  not  by  personal  friends  alone, 
but  by  every  soldier  and  officer  that  served  under  him. 
His  dispatches,  even  when  announcing  the  grandest  suc- 
cesses, were  brief  statements  of  fact,  unvarnished.  Many 
such  statements  as  this  would  occur:  We  are  about  to 
open  the  campaign.  I  have  prayed  earnestly  to  God  that 


334  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

he  will  enable  me  to  pass  through  it  in  his  fear,  knowing 
no  greater  earthly  blessing  than  to  have  a  conscience  at 
ease  in  the  discharge  of  duty.' ' 

I  left  the  presence  of  this  distinguished  gentleman 
with  the  consciousness  that  pride,  hatred,  revenge,  had  no 
place  in  his  noble  nature,  and  that,. having  lowered  his 
colors  and  sheathed  his  sword,  he  was  fully  entitled  to  the 
consideration  and  respect  of  the  gallant  soldier  to  whom 
he  surrendered.  It  is  needless  for  me  to  say  that,  in  my 
opinion,  had  he  lived,  he  would  fully  have  upheld  in  the 
most  distinguished  manner  the  Union  of  the  States,  the 
reconciliation  of  all  classes,  and  the  prosperity  and  happi- 
ness of  the  whole  country.  Foremost  amongst  the  Con- 
federates, and  first  in  peace,  General  Robert  E.  Lee  was 
not  only  a  chivalrous  gentleman,  but  he  was  eminently  a 
Christian.  In  all  his  acts  he  was  gifted  with  so  rare  a 
kindliness  of  demeanor  that  he  never  made  a  quarrel  with 
any  one.  His  brief  though  brilliant  experience  as  in- 
structor of  the  young  men  of  the  South  after  the  war 
closed,  gave  the  strongest  evidence  of  his  loyalty  and 
goodness  of  heart,  and  clearly  presaged  the  glory  which 
would  have  crowned  his  career  had  his  life  been  spared. 


Chapter  XXI. 

SALMON   P.  CHASE'S   OPINIONS   ON   MEN 
AND   EVENTS. 

THE  name  of  Salmon  P.  Chase  is  well  remembered  as 
one  of  the  great  leaders  and  financiers  of  the  country. 
Although  many  years  have  passed  since  his  death,  the 
recollections  of  his  services  to  the  country  are  calculated 
not  only  to  promote  admiration  for  and  gratitude  to  the 
great  party  of  freedom,  but  also  to  confirm  an  attachment 
to  the  principles  of  that  party  which  first  checked  the 
progress  of  slavery,  and  then  abolished  it.  The  men  of 
that  stormy  period  were  great  spirits,  fit  to  encounter 
the  contests  and  to  endure  its  heart-stirring  agitations. 
Theirs  was  not  a  carpet  warfare,  in  which  they  might 
flourish  and  declaim  without  fear ;  they  entered  the  scenes 
of  the  combat,  and  with  the  martyr's  courage  retained 
a  firm  and  unyielding  grasp  of  their  principles. 

Among  these  illustrious  champions  and  defenders, 
many  of  whom  suffered  unto  death,  and  all  of  whom  pos- 
sessed the  spirit  and  deserve  the  appellation  of  martyrs, 
Chase  is  entitled  to  our  high  and  grateful  admiration.  I 
met  him  in  1867,  when  I  was  chaplain  of  General  Miles's 
regiment  and  assistant  superintendent  of  the  Freedmen's 
Bureau.  He  was  then  on  a  tour  of  the  South  in  his  ca- 
pacity of  Chief- Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court.  Upon  his 
arrival  in  Raleigh  he  sent  for  me,  and  requested  that  I 
conduct  him  the  next  day  (Sunday)  to  as  many  colored 
churches  as  possible,  as  he  was  anxious  to  see  the  prog- 
ress of  the  people.  The  first  church  visited  was  that  of 

335 


336  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

the  Methodist,  a  building  capable  of  holding  two  thou- 
sand people.  It  was  crowded.  Governor  Holden,  Gen- 
eral Miles,  and  many  distinguished  North  Carolinians 
were  present.  The  minister  was  absent,  and  Governor 
Holden  suggested  that  I  preach  a  sermon,  and  then,  Meth- 
odist fashion,  have  a  general  class-meeting.  After  the 
sermon  was  over,  a  hundred  spoke.  There  was  a  bust 
of  the  Chief- Justice  upon  the  pulpit.  I  referred  to  it,  and 
said  that  the  distinguished  man  was  then  in  the  audience ; 
that  he  .was  one  of  the  chief  instruments  of  their  eman- 
cipation, and  their  lifelong  friend.  The  enthusiasm  was 
great,  and  a  shout  arose  for  a  few  words  from  Mr.  Chase. 
He  spoke  briefly,  expressing  his  delight  at  their  progress. 
I  gave  out  the  hymn : 

"Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  blow, 
The  gladly  solemn  sound." 

The  music  of  this  hymn,  sung  with  the  abandon  of 
happy-hearted  colored  people,  as  it  rang  and  vibrated 
through  the  great  Church,  was  overwhelming.  On  the 
way  to  the  hotel,  Mr.  Chase  stopped  frequently  to  wipe 
away  the  tears  that  were  streaming  down  his  face.  We 
visited  other  churches  with  the  same  result.  The  next 
morning  I  accompanied  him  to  the  largest  Freedmen's 
school.  As  we  entered  the  building,  a  man  eighty  years 
of  age  was  being  taught  to  read  the  Bible  by  a  little  child. 
Chase  asked  me  what  that  reminded  me  of.  I  hesitated, 
and  he  said,  "It  is  a  fulfillment  of  the  prophecy,  'A  little 
child  shall  lead  them.'  " 

In  the  course  of  our  subsequent  conversation  he  gave 
his  estimates  of  the  distinguished  men  with  whom  he  had 
been  associated  or  had  known.  "Thaddeus  Stevens,"  he 
said,  "introduced  a  new  style  of  speaking  into  Congress, 


SALMON  P.    CHASE   ON  MEN  AND  EVENTS.  337 

which  was  suited  to  the  age  and  to  debates  on  slavery — 
a  combination  of  the  lecture,  of  the- bar,  and  of  the  stump. 
He  was  thoroughly  sincere  in  his  convictions,  broad  in  his 
statements,  and  fearless  of  results.  Burlingame  was,  for  a 
time,  the  most  brilliant,  pointed,  and  effective  of  all  the 
anti-slavery  orators."  He  was  afterwards  appointed  to 
China,  where  he  negotiated  the  treaty  with  that  country. 

Of  Charles  Sumner,  Mr.  Chase  said :  "The  high  intel- 
lect reflected  in  his  writings  has  for  years  stimulated 
the  anti-slavery  sentiment,  quickened  the  consciences, 
and  strengthened  the  hope  of  the  Abolitionists.  His 
speeches  will  always  remain  as  a  triumphant  vindication 
of  the  Republican  policy,  as  scathing  denunciations  of 
slavery,  and  as  glorious  models  of  eloquence  to  his  coun- 
trymen." 

I  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  Sumner  was  something 
of  a  plagiarist,  at  least  in  one  of  his  orations,  reading  to 
him  a  sentence  in  one  of  his  speeches  resembling  a  passage 
of  Demosthenes.  The  Greek  said  in  his  oration  upon  the 
crown,  "By  the  generous  souls  who  were  exposed  at 
Marathon,  by  those  who  stood  arrayed  at  Platsea,  by  all 
the  illustrious  sons  of  Athens,"  etc.  Sumner  said,  "No, 
by  the  generous  souls  who  were  exposed  at  Lexington, 
by  those  who  stood  arrayed  at  Bunker  Hill !"  Chase  hesi- 
tated, and  then  confessed  that  there  was  a  striking  re- 
semblance. 

When  asked  his  opinion  of  Corwin,  he  replied :  "There 
was  no  such  political  speaker  in  the  country  as  Tom  Cor- 
win. I  speak  within  bounds  when  I  say  he  had  no  equal 
as  a  stump  speaker,  and  his  services  to  the  country  were 
inestimable." 

He  then  related  an  anecdote  of  him.  Corwin  was  once 
speaking  at  Elyria,  Ohio,  when  he  was  a  Whig.  That 


UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

part  of  the  Western  Reserve  had  always  been  noted  for 
its  anti-slavery  sentiments.  Corwin  was  of  very  dark 
complexion,  and  was  frequently  taken  for  a  Negro,  and, 
like  most  of  the  Whig  orators,  did  not  relish  any  allusion 
to  the  peculiar  institution.  In  the  middle  of  his  speech 
he  was  interrupted  by  a  Yankee  with  the  question,  "Mr. 
Corwin,  what  is  your  opinion  of  slavery?"  Corwin 
quickly  answered:  "I  am  surprised,  sir,  that  you  should 
ask  such  a  question  as  that  from  a  gentleman  of  my  color." 
After  a  few  seconds,  when  the  crowd  saw  the  point,  some 
one  called  out,  "Three  cheers  for  Mr.  Corwin!" 

One  day  the  conversation  turned  to  the  history  of 
many  eminent  men  of  our  country,  whose  early  oppor- 
tunities were  limited.  After  speaking  of  his  own  early 
hardships,  Mr.  Chase  said:  "The  history  of  the  country 
shows  that  a  majority  of  its  most  celebrated  statesmen, 
poets,  and  business  men,  whose  careers  adorned  its 
pages, — Lincoln,  Greeley,  Stanton,  both  the  Adams, 
Grant,  Sheridan,  the  Shermans, — were  all  the  sons  of  poor 
men.  It  was  related  of  Lord  Buchan,  the  elder  brother 
of  the  famous  Lord  Erskine,  that  when  some  one  spoke 
to  him  of  his  brother's  eminence,  Lord  Buchan  said, 
'Why,  sir,  the  eminence  of  my  brother  is  entirely  due 
to  me.'  The  gentleman  asked,  'How  is  that?  I  did  not 
know  you  had  anything  to  do  with  it !'  'Q  yes,'  said  Lord 
Buchan,  'I  was  the  making  of  him.  When  he  was  a  young 
man,  he  asked  me  for  a  small  sum  to  enable  him  to  live. 
I  absolutely  refused  to  give  him  a  single  farthing,  and 
it  is  in  consequence  of  that  refusal  that  he  has  risen  to 


eminence/  ' 


Mr.  Chase  spoke  several  times  of  Lincoln,  and  his 
sweetness  and  tenderness  of  heart  and  yet  firm  and  de- 
termined character,  which  wanted  only  the  opportunity 


SALMON  P.   CHASE   ON  MEN  AND  EVENTS.  339 

to  strike  with  memorable  justice.  No  patriot,  born  or 
unborn,  would  ever  measure  up  to  his  greatness. 

I  told  the  Chief- Justice  that  the  first  political  speeches 
I  ever  heard  in  the  United  States  were  by  him  and  Gen- 
eral W.  H.  Gibson,  and  repeated  one  of  his  sentences  in 
refutation  of  the  claims  of  Know-Nothingism,  which  de- 
manded twenty-one  years'  residence  before  a  foreigner 
could  become  a  citizen  of  the  United  States:  "If  a  man 
has  not  brains  enough  to  understand  the  Constitution  in 
five  years,  he  will  not  understand  it  in  twenty-one  years." 

Speaking  of  the  Know-Nothing  party,  he  said:  "It 
was  conceived  in  prejudice  and  bigotry,  as  such  organ- 
izations will  occasionally  arise,  encouranged  by  dema- 
gogues and  disappointed  politicians;  but  the  growing 
intelligence  of  America  shakes  off  the  serpent,  as  Paul 
shook  the  viper  from  his  hand." 

General  Gibson  believed  that  Chase  had  been  opposed 
to  his  advancement  and  had  used  his  influence  against 
him.  Said  he :  "I  wish  you  would  say  in  one  of  your  let- 
ters to  the  Cleveland  Leader  that  I  have  always  been  the 
friend  of  General  Gibson,  and  that  my  influence  has  al- 
ways been  used  for  him.  I  consider  him  a  very  striking 
and  effective  stump  orator.  In  one  of  his  speeches,  and 
I  have  heard  him  often,  he  evinced  an  amount  of  dramatic 
ability  and  power  truly  wonderful." 

I  requested  Mr.  Chase,  on  one  occasion,  to  give  me 
the  history  of  his  reply  to  Daniel  O'Connell,  who  had 
written  a  powerful  letter  to  the  Irishmen  of  America  to 
come  out  of  the  Democratic  party  and  vote  with  the 
Abolitionists.  Mr.  Chase  replied :  "The  letter  written  by 
Mr.  O'Connell  was  placed  in  my  hands  by  the  Abolition- 
ists, with  a  request  that  I  write  a  response  to  the  indict- 
ment of  slavery,  and  the  inconsistency  of  his  countrymen 


340  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS, 

in  their  wholesale  support  of  the  party  with  which  the 
barbarism  of  slavery  had  been  maintained."  He  ex- 
pressed his  regret  at  never  having  seen  O'Connell,  and 
asked  if  I  had  ever  seen  him.  I  told  him  I  had  seen  him 
only  once,  when,  a  mere  lad,  a  stalwart  Irishman  had 
held  me  upon  his  shoulder  for  a  glimpse  of  the  eman- 
cipator while  he  was  making  a  speech.  He  knew  O'Con- 
nell's  writings  well,  and  was  conversant  with  many  in- 
cidents in  his  life.  I  related  to  him  one  which  he  had 
never  heard,  and  which  seemed  to  please  him.  O'Con- 
nell was  defending  a  prisoner  on  trial  for  his  life  when 
he  violently  abused  the  judge  and  jury.  The  prisoner 
became  frightened,  and  exclaimed:  "O,  Mr.  O'Connell, 
if  you  speak  like  that  they  will  hang  me !"  "And  never 
you  mind  if  they  do  or  not,"  cried  Mr.  O'Connell ;  "for  if 
they  do,  I  will  make  them  sorry  for  it !" 

Of  the  great  preachers  of  his  time,  Bishop  Simpson 
was  Chase's  ideal.  He  loved  and  admired  him  for  his 
patriotism  and  eloquence,  and  pronounced  his  oration 
over  Lincoln's  grave  the  finest  combination  of  patriotic 
and  funeral  oratory. he  had  ever  heard.  "Yes,"  he  said, 
"Bishop  Simpson  is  a  man  of  genius?  and  his  great  power 
as  a  pulpit  orator  remains  undiminished.  I  always  hear 
him  when  it  is  in  my  power,  and  I  always  wish  to  see  him." 
I  ventured  to  critcise  the  great  bishop,  on  account  of  his 
too  frequent  habit  of  giving  way  to  his  emotions  while 
in  the  pulpit.  Mr.  Chase  replied,  in  vindication  of  his 
favorite,  and  mine  also:  "The  very  same  objection  was 
brought  against  Edmund  Burke  by  Sir  Philip  Francis, 
in  his  defense  of  Marie  Antoinette,  that  there  was  too 
much  emotion  in  it  for  good  taste.  Burke  replied,  'All 
I  can  say  is,  I  shed  tears  when  I  wrote  those  words  and 
thought  of  the  scenes  they  recalled,  and  my  eyes  filled 


SALMON  P.    CHASE   ON  MEN  AND  EVENTS.  341 

with  tears  as  I  read  them  over  again/  And  I. think," 
continued  Mr.  Chase,  "if  the  greatest  of  philanthropic 
orators  wept  when  he  produced  that  memorable  and  beau- 
tiful description,  Bishop  Simpson  may  be  pardoned  if 
he  occasionally  indulges  in  emotion." 

That  Mr.  Chase  was  a  candidate  for  the  Presidency 
was  evident  from  his  actions.  He  dwelt  frequently  upon 
the  ingratitude  of  parties  for  their  leaders.  I  asked  him 
his  opinion  upon  a  question  that  was  then  agitating  the 
country,  showing  him  a-  letter  upon  the  same  subject 
which  I  had  received  from  Sumner.  He  said :  "You  know 
that  I  am  a  candidate  for  the  nomination,  and  that  my 
friends  are  hopeful  of  my  success,  and  any  profession  on 
the  eve  of  the  Convention  would  be  received  with  sus- 
picion. The  press  would  jump  eagerly  at  any  statement 
I  would  make.  The  truth  is,  that  jealousies,  enmities, 
and  conspiracies  pursue  the  public  man  to  his  grave. 
His  honor,  his  patriotism,  his  motives,  are  impeached! 
History  is  searched  for  parallels  to  his  shame.  The  most 
disinterested  act  of  my  life  was  that  letter  to  Daniel 
O'Connell.  At  that  time  it  was  the  most  popular  thing 
that  could  be  done,  yet  the  leading  papers  wrote  me 
down  as  a  demagogue." 

He  then  quoted  the  well-known  words  of  Washing- 
ton :  "It  is  a  severe  tax  which  all  must  pay  who  are  called 
to  eminent  stations  of  trust,  not  only  to  be  held  up  as 
conspicuous  marks  to  the  enmity  of  the  public  adver- 
saries of  their  country,  but  to  the  malice  of  secret  traitors 
and  the  treachery  of  false  friends."  He  added,  with  emo- 
tion: "Ignorance  and  malice  pour  their  calumnies  upon 
the  best  men  that  I  have  known,  upon  the  men  that  have 
made  the  greatest  sacrifices  for  their  country.  It  is,  in- 
deed, the  vice  of  our  age,  and  I  fear  particularly  of  our 


342  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

country.  The  pains  and  penalties  of  public  life  and  its 
enemies  were  illustrated  in  the  treatment  of  Henry  Clay 
by  his  party.  It  is  related  of  Clay  that  he  asked  some  one 
who  was  nominated  for  the  Presidency,  and  when  he 
was  told  "Franklin  Pierce,"  he  exclaimed,  "Who  is  he! 
My  God,  we  are  beaten!"  Chase  repeated  this  with 
dramatic  effect. 

These  are  a  few  of  the  utterances  of  Mr.  Chase  in 
the  several  interviews  I  had  with  him.  As  I  remember 
him,  he  seemed  a  man  noble  and  attractive  in  the  qual- 
ities of  truth,  justice,  and  courage.  A  man  whom  the 
colored  people  of  the  South  will  always  remember  with 
pride  and  love.  He  belonged  to  a  grand  race  of  orators 
and  statesmen — a  race  that  lifted  the  great  party  of  free- 
dom and  the  Union  triumphantly  before  the  world. 


Chapter   XXII. 

INTERVIEWS    WITH    EMINENT    MEN— WENDELL 
PHILLIPS— SOME  CHARACTERISTIC  VIEWS. 

T  NTER VIEWS  with  eminent  men  are  the  most  enter- 
1  taining,  as  they  form  the  most  interesting  and  instruct- 
ive department  of  national  history.  All  history,  in  truth, 
is  compounded  of  a  series  of  biographies  and  conversa- 
tions. It  embraces  an  ampler  scope  of  details.  History 
is  boundless  in  its  range,  while  interviews  are  limited  and 
individualized.  But  in  essence  they  are  one;  for  there 
can  be  no  great  events  without  great  actors.  The  won- 
derful Iliad,  heroic  history  in  hexameters,  is  only  a 
series  of  interviews.  The  "Decline  and  Fall"  is  a  gallery 
of  portraits — emperors,  conquerors,  lawgivers,  pontiffs, 
prelates,  poets,  and  patriots;  men  who  have  adorned  hu- 
manity by  their  virtues,  or  debased  it  by  their  vices. 
Each  of  these  interviews  gives  a  faithful  account  of  the 
distinguished  men's  opinions  whose  names  are  mentioned. 
American  genius  is  a  unity,  and  it  is  seen  in  the  splendid 
antitheses  of  Phillips,  in  the  beautiful  ideal  philosophy  of 
DufTerin,  in  the  piety  and  wisdom  of  Simpson,  in  the  vast 
intellectual  power  of  Elaine,  in  the  patriotic  intrepidity 
of  Sheridan,  the  profound  learning  of  Chase. 

The  distinguished  agitator  and  orator,  Wendell -Phil- 
lips, has  been  dead  for  many  years,  but  his  memory  is 
still  warmly  cherished  by  thousands  in  this  and  Euro- 
pean countries.  Massachusetts  has  given  many  a  great 
citizen  to  the  State;  none,  however,  who  have  rendered 
more  valuable  services  to  the  cause  of  civil  and  religious 

343 


344  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

liberty  than  the  famous  man  of  whom  I  speak.  Few  men 
hold  a  more  honored  position  in  our  roll  of  illustrious 
characters.  We  claim  for  Wendell  Phillips  admiration 
and  honor.  Personal  reminiscences  of  such  benefactors 
are  of  incalculable  advantage,  as  through  this  channel 
a  vast  amount  of  information  upon  important  subjects 
is  disseminated  concerning  those  whose  labors  have  left 
their  footprints  in  the  history  of  the  times. 

Mr.  Phillips  said  to  me  one  day,  "If  you  ever  come 
within  twenty  miles  of  Boston,  let  me  know,  and  I  will 
hear  you."  The  time  came  when  I  could  grant  his  wish, 
and  he  was  asked  to  preside  at  the  meeting.  He  could 
not  come,  but  wrote  a  letter — the  last  one  he  ever  wrote — 
expressing  his  regrets,  and  saying  his  wife  was  ill.  He 
invited  me  to  visit  him  the  next  day.  I  found  him  in 
his  library.  He  was  in  a  conversational  mood,  and  gave 
me  his  recollections  of  the  eminent  men  whom  he  had 
met  in  Europe  and  the  United  States.  I  had  recently 
returned  from  the  Old  World,  where  I  had  met  and 
conversed  with  some  of  the  Russian  exiles.  The  address 
of  Mr.  Phillips  before  Harvard,  in  which  he  justified  and 
glorified  the  rough  methods  of  the  Nihilists,  was  trans- 
lated into  all  the  continental  papers.  These  bold  con- 
spirators read  the  speech  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and 
they  told  me  of  their  admiration  and  of  their  love  for 
its  author.  I  told  Mr.  Phillips  of  the  emotion  of  these 
brave  but  mistaken  advocates  for  liberty,  when  I  informed 
them  of  my  personal  acquaintance  with  him.  He  was 
pleased  to  know  that  his  words  had  traveled  across  the 
Alps,  giving  comfort  to  the  people.  "Russia,"  he  said, 
"has  been  carrying  on  a  war  against  humanity  for  centu- 
ries. The  barbarism  of  Russians  was  shown  in  burning  off 
the  feet  of  the  champions  of  liberty  and  shooting  them 


INTERVIEWS   WITH  EMINENT  MEN.  345 

down  like  dogs.  I  trust  that  some  mighty  leader  will  start 
up  among  them  who  will  avenge  the  martyred  Nihilists, 
and  lead  the  cause  to  success."  I  asked  him  his  estimate 
of  Webster,  and  which  of  his  efforts  he  considered  his 
masterpiece.  He  believed  that  the  noblest  specimen  of 
his  eloquence  and  the  most  profound  specimen  of  his 
reasoning  was  contained  in  a  lecture  before  the  Mechan- 
ics' Institute  in  Boston,  quoting  a  whole  paragraph,  com- 
mencing, "A  history  of  mechanical  philosophy,  however, 
would  not  begin  with  Greece."  He  said  that  nature  was 
lavish  to  Webster.  His  broad  temples,  his  massive  head, 
and  majestic  body  were  all  expressive  of  concentrated 
force  of  will  which  marked  the  great  Greeks,  and  which 
Lavater  admired.  His  self-possession,  his  splendid  pres- 
ence, his  learning,  his  oratory,  his  dramatic  manner  of 
stating  a  case,  all  added  impressiveness  and  power  to 
his  utterances.  When  he  first  commenced  to  speak  he 
was  strained,  and  his  first  sentences  resembled  the  effort 
to  get  a  heavily-laden  vessel  under  way.  His  words  were 
not  winged,  but  appeared  as  if  rough  hewn  out  of  some 
mental  quarry.  The  two  best  known  and  popular  of 
his  speeches  were  the  two  delivered  at  Plymouth  Rock 
and  Bunker  Hill.  He  questioned  Webster's  sincerity. 
"To  him,"  he  said,  "might  aptly  be  applied  the  language 
of  Sallust  in  speaking  of  Catiline,  'He  could  with  equal 
skill  pretend  not  to  be  what  he  was  and  to  be  what  he 
was  not.'  " 

France  was  mentioned,  and  he  was  very  enthusiastic 
in  describing  the  people  of  that  country.  "I  was  there 
during  all  the  enthusiasm,  which,  having  been  restrained, 
broke  forth  in  a  torrent.  Mourir  pour  la  patrie, — to  die 
for  one's  country, — no  matter  who  governs,  is  still  the 
sweetest  death  to  a  Frenchman.  Neither  materialism 


UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

nor  Bourgeois  prosperity  have  been  able  to  erase  this 
beautiful  blossom  from  the  Frenchman's  heart."  He 
quoted  with  rare  power  Verginaud's  proud  saying,  "The 
nobility — what  does  that  mean?  The  nobility — that 
means  one  class  born  to  rule,  another  class  born  to  be 
ruled;  one  class  born  to  be  masters,  another  class  born 
to  be  slaves!  The  very  term  is  an  insult  to  the  human 
race  and  blasphemous  against  the  living  God."  He  spoke 
with  delight  of  the  French  character,  and  believed  that 
the  Republic  was  an  assured  triumph.  Of  Beranger,  the 
republican  poet,  he  was  full  of  praise,  and  repeated  his 
bold  words, 

"  Peuples,  formez  tme  sainte  alliance 
Bt  donnez-vous  la  main." 

("O,  nations,  form,  a  holy  alliance, 

And  give  to  each  other  a  friendly  hand.") 

In  the  presence  of  this  greatest  master  of  eloquence, 
I  was  anxious  to  have  his  views  upon  this  subject,  and 
inquired  if  the  following  anecdote  of  him  was  true:  A 
statement  had  gone  the  rounds  of  the  press,  some  years 
before,  which  represented  Mr.  Phillips  as  exclaiming,  in 
one  of  his  superb  rages,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the 
motto  of  the  State  in  Faneuil  Hall,  "God  save  the  com- 
monwealth of  Massachusetts,"  "God  d n  the  common- 
wealth of  Massachusetts !"  He  said  it  was  true,  and  that 
he  received  hundreds  of  letters  from  clergymen  remon- 
strating. He  laughed  like  a  boy  at  the  memory  called 
up,  and  gave  me  the  history  of  the  circumstances  which 
called  forth  the  denunciation.  A  slave  girl  had  made 
her  escape  from  South  Carolina  under  the  most  distress- 
ing difficulties.  Arriving  in  Boston,  she  was  immediately 
arrested  and  remanded  back  to  slavery.  An  indignation 
meeting  was  called.  Fredrika  Bremer  was  present,  and 


INTERVIEWS    WITH  EMINENT  MEN.  347 

indignant  that  such  an  outrage  should  be  committed  on 
the  sacred  soil  of  the  Pilgrims.  "I  did  utter  that  male- 
diction," said  Mr.  Phillips.  "You  are  a  clergyman — was 
it  profanity?  Would  you  not  have  repeated  it?"  I  re- 
plied, "If  I  had  not  said  it,  I  would  have  thought  it." 
Mr.  Phillips  laughed  heartily,  and  rising,  went  to  his 
book-case  and  brought  me  a  copy  of  his  Harvard  oration, 
with  his  autograph  on  it,  which  he  gave  to  me  as  a  tes- 
timonial of  his  regard. 

He  had  nothing  but  contempt  for  Disraeli,  and  de- 
scribed him  as  a  charlatan,  saying  that  the  best  portrait 
of  him  was  found  in  one  of  his  own  novels :  "He  became 
habituated  to  the  idea  that  everything  could  be  achieved 
by  dexterity,  and  that  there  was  no  test  of  character  ex- 
cept success,  to  adopt  any  opinion  and  possess  none." 
He  asked  me  if  I  heard  John  Bright,  and  what  was 
my  opinion  of  his  style.  I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  say- 
ing that  his  style  was  very  simple.  "Yes,"  said  Mr. 
Phillips,  "his  style  is  simple,  and  perhaps  he  has  spoken 
the  finest  English  in  this  age ;  but  he  seems  to  have  aban- 
doned all  his  early  progressive  ideas,  and  gone  back  upon 
his  friends  and  upon  liberalism.  Now  he  sees  in  every 
party  a  faction;  in  the  enlightened  progress  toward  jus- 
tice in  Ireland,  a  malignant  insult;  in  all  her  efforts  for 
local  self-government,  a  sectarian  cry.  The  great  place 
he  filled,  the  great  reforms  in  which  he  participated,— 
all  are  to  be  remembered  with  gratitude;  but  his  oppo- 
sition to  prohibition  and  woman  suffrage  and  other  re- 
forms shows  that  he  has  become  an  antiquated  imbecile. 
He  has  undoubted  talents;  but  if  any  of  the  sacred  fire 
of  his  earlier  and  purer  days  is  left  in  him,  he  must  feel 
degraded  and  politically  dead." 

I  called  his  attention  to  his  own  recent  lecture  upon 


348  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Charles  Sumner,  and  inquired  which  of  the  senator's 
speeches  he  considered  the  best.  He  answered:  "It  is 
very  difficult  to  decide.  For  strength  of  denunciation, 
his  speech  upon  the  barbarism  of  slavery  is  the  most 
thoroughly  prepared  and  most  forceful,  and  the  most 
exciting  of  all  his  addresses  in  the  Senate.  But  the  first 
address  he  ever  delivered,  upon  the  'Grandeur  of  Nations/ 
bears  evidence  of  great  study.  It  has  the  glow  of  genius, 
and  I  believe  history  will  place  this  effort  as  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  all,  in  literary  preparation  and  excellence." 
Here  a  suggestion  was  made  that  Mr.  Phillips  and  other 
agitators  might  have  accomplished  more  effective  work 
by  accepting  public  office.  "O  no,"  was  the  quick  re- 
sponse; "the  best  method  for  reformers,  if  they  sincerely 
desire  the  public  good,  is  never  to  accept  office.  All 
the  great  reforms  of  the  last  few  years  were  achieved  by 
men  who  never  took  office.  It  was  William  Wilberforce 
who  abolished  slavery;  it  was  O'Connell  who  abolished 
Catholic  slavery;  it  was  Cobden  who  abolished  the  taxes 
upon  food ;  and  never  has  Gladstone  appeared  in  a  nobler 
attitude  than  when  he  pleaded  the  cause  of  the  Bulga- 
rians,— friend  and  foe  conceded  the  purity  and  splendor 
of  his  aims.  All  these  public  benefactors  were  out  of 
office  at  the  time." 

In  speaking  of  Gladstone,  Mr.  Phillips  said:  "Glad- 
stone possesses  all  the  elements  of  the  most  persuasive 
eloquence — logic  unsurpassed,  commanding  personality, 
vast  and  profound  learning,  and  a  free  and  fearless  man- 
ner." Referring  to  the  Englishman's  change  of  front  on 
the  Irish  question,  .and  that  his  enemies  charged  him 
with  demagogism:  "No,"  continued  the  veteran  agitator, 
with  considerable  warmth,  "that  is  the  old  slander.  He 
is  no  demagogue.  A  demagogue  follows,  but  does  not 


INTERVIEWS   WITH  EMINENT  MEN.  349 

lead  the  masses.  He  flatters  their  follies  and  prejudices, 
while  the  reformer  and  statesman  attacks  both  at  the 
mandates  of  his  convictions.  He  transfers  the  benev- 
olent spirit  of  Christianity  from  the  pulpit  to  the  plat- 
form." 

He  rapidly  sketched  traits  of  several  orators  of  his 
own  time.  Of  Clay,  he  said,  "His  rush  at  a  subject  had 
all  the  rapidity  of  a  mountain  torrent."  Calhoun  was 
"always  cool.  His  voice  low  in  tone  and  small  in  volume ; 
but  when  he  became  excited  his  words  fairly  hissed." 
Everett's  eloquence  was  "like  a  stuffed  doll."  "The  per- 
fection of  eloquence  is  fervid  thought  in  direct  language. 
No  orator  can  tell  the  thing  within  him — it  is  a  passion. 
Rhetoric  is  a  mummy;  no  great  truth  goes  by  art." 
"Every  orator  has  his  faults  and  his  own  style.  It  was 
the  fashion  of  Addison  and  Burke  to  polish,  alter,  and 
finish  up  the  sentence,  and  adopt  the  last  and  best  fin- 
ished." 

I  spoke  of  his  sympathy  for  Ireland,  and  that  in  Dub- 
lin he  was  almost  as  well  known  as  the  Irish  leaders  them- 
selves ;  that  his  speeches  were  read  all  over  the  land.  "Ire- 
land," he  answered,  "has  my  support.  It  is  nigh  a  hundred 
years  since  the  greatest  political  essayist  that  ever  lived, 
Junius,  wrote  in  one  short  sentence  the  history  of  mis- 
government  in  Ireland :  'The  people  of  Ireland  have  been 
universally  plundered  and  oppressed.'  This  has  been 
the  epitome  of  Irish  history  for  hundreds  of  years." 

Parnell  was  then  in  the  fullness  of  his  fame,  and  of 
him  Phillips  said:  "He  is  the  truest  and  noblest  type  of 
an  Irish  patriot.  Since  O'Connell  stirred  the  hearts  of 
Ireland  like  an  earthquake,  and  swayed  her  mind  by  his 
eloquence  as  planets  rule  the  sea,  no  Irish  leader  has 
ever  been  a  truer  exponent  of  Ireland's  aspirations  than 


350  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS, 

Parnell."  He  then  referred  to  the  labor  problem,  re- 
peating with  earnestness  the  observations  of  one  of  the 
Fathers:  "Government  wealth  is  not  to  be  expended  in 
personal  enjoyment,  but  in  promoting  the  glory  of  God 
and  the  happiness  of  his  creatures." 

But  it  was  for  O'Connell  that  he  reserved  his  highest 
praise.  He  dwelt  upon  his  generous  and  effective  sym- 
pathies with  the  Protestant  Dissenters,  securing  for  them 
the  laws  that  guarded  their  civil  and  religious  rights ;  his 
noble  advocacy  of  abolition  and  his  broad,  comprehen- 
sive views,  adding :  "It  is  curious  enough,  in  watching  the 
course  of  events,  to  mark  how  every  strong  passion  which 
takes  hold  of  a  nation  embodies  itself  in  a  suitable  leader, 
who  stands  forth  from  his  fellows  as  master  of  the  sit- 
uation. O'Connell  was  Ireland  embodied."  He  then 
related  many  anecdotes  of  him,  his  eloquence,  wit,  power, 
and  blarney.  Referring  to  the  latter,  he  heard  O'Connell 
in  a  meeting  in  Dublin  say:  "I  was  delighted  at  the 
activity,  and  my  heart  grew  warm  admiring  the  beauty 
of  the  dark-eyed  maids  and  matrons  of  Kildare.  O,  there 
is  starlight  sparkling  from  the  eyes  of  a  Kildare  beauty! 
And  remember  that  you  are  the  husbands  of  such  women, 
and  a  traitor  or  a  coward  could  never  be  connected  with 
any  of  them."  How  he  came  to  deliver  his  lecture  upon 
O'Connell  was  in  this  way :  Dr.  Blake,  a  physician,  called 
upon  and  asked  him  to  speak  a  few  words  for  a  charity. 
He  protested  that  he  had  not  studied  the  Irish  question. 
"Tell  what  you  know  of  O'Connell,"  said  the  doctor. 
He  had  a  volume  of  the  great  Irishman's  speeches,  which 
he  took  down,  and  read  this  sentence  from  one  of  them : 
"We  want  no  ascendency;  we  repudiate  it.  I  had  rather 
die  upon  the  scaffold — I  say  it  with  all  the  solemnity  of 
truth — than  to  consent  to  a  Catholic  ascendency  for  Ire- 


INTERVIEWS   WITH  EMINENT  MEN.  351 

land."  He  spoke  long  and  earnestly  upon  O'Connell, 
describing  him  as  the  father  of  agitators;  that  his  was 
a  sublime  close  of  a  political  career  the  most  successful 
and  the  most  morally  glorious. 

For  John  Boyle  O'Reilly,  the  editor  of  the  Boston 
Pilot,  Mr.  Phillips  had  the  most  hearty  and  expressed 
admiration^  as  well  as  for  Mr.  Patrick  Donahoe,  the  vet- 
eran publisher  of  that  splendid  journal.  Referring  to 
Mr.  Donahoe's  long  advocacy  of  his  Church  in  the  face 
of  the  most  bitter  New  .England  bigotry  fifty  years  ago, 
he  called  him  a  martyr,  saying  that  to  his  zeal  and  per- 
sistent devotion  the  cause  of  Ireland  was  eternally  in- 
debted. Then  he  would  refer  to  O'Reilly  frequently  in 
words  like  these:  "Earnest  in  his  patriotism,  profound 
in  his  devotion,  stanch  in  his  principles,"  saying  that 
his  eager  Irish  heartedness  made  him  the  friend  of  every 
oppressed  people.  It  was  a  question  whether  O'Reilly 
was  more  American  or  Irish;  that  his  sympathies  were 
boundless.  He  advocated  the  claims  of  Ireland  in  the 
fashionable  homes  of  Boston  when  it  had  not  become 
popular.  In  a  remakable  essay  in  one  of  these  Beacon 
Street  mansions  he  showed  that  Ireland  had  resources 
in  art,  in  manufactures,  in  commerce,  and  mines,  to  make 
her  a  nation.  "I  admired  his  genius,"  continued  Phil- 
lips, "integrity,  and  sturdy  independence."  He  eagerly 
asked  if  I  knew  him.  I  responded  that  I  knew  him  in- 
timately; that  I  read  him,  studied  him;  that  I  was  proud 
to  call  him  my  friend!  Yes,  O'Reilly  was  my  friend. 
He  wielded  a  powerful  and  pungent  pen,  whether  it 
reasoned  with  the  head  or  with  the  heart. 

I  was  in  Italy  when  the  cable  announced  that  Boyle 
O'Reilly,  the  accomplished  gentleman,  the  beloved  friend, 
the  revered,  warm-hearted  lover  of  Erin,  the  inspired 


35 2  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

poet,  was  no  more — gone — dead!  In  his  death,  Ireland 
lost  one  of  her  brightest  sons,  and  liberty  one  of  her 
most  pure  and  high-souled  champions!  Perhaps  there 
never  was  a  man  in  a  shorter  time,  coming  from  a  foreign 
land,  who  won  more  respect  and  friendship  than  Boyle 
O'Reilly.  Thousands  of  the  colored  race,  as  well  as 
millions  of  Irishmen  in  all  lands,  shed  tears  of  deep  and 
unaffected  sorrow  over  his  early  death.  But  this  gifted 
son  of  Erin  has  left  behind  him  a  successor  in  James  Jef- 
frey Roche,  endowed  with  faculties  of  the  highest  order, 
a  keen  sense  of  all  that  is  most  holy  in  nature,  most 
beautiful  in  art,  most  benevolent  in  philanthropy,  with 
the  heart  of  a  patriot  and  the  inspired  genius  of  the  poet. 
Another  great  Irishman  who  was  beloved  by  Phil- 
lips was  Mr.  Patrick  Ford,  of  New  York.  When  I  rose  to 
leave,  Mr.  Phillips  exclaimed,  "Stay  longer!  I  wish  to 
speak  to  you  about  Mr.  Ford.  He  is  a  hundred  years 
ahead  of  his  times.  I  await  each  week  with  a  keen  inter- 
est the  arrival  of  the  World.  I  read  his  temperance  ar- 
ticles, then  the  editorials  upon  the  labor  problem,  and 
his  Irish  utterances.  I  have  laid  away  all  the  special  num- 
bers upon  the  American  Revolution,  and  that  great 
issue  upon  Emmet,  where  he  has  collected  the  opinions 
of  the  most  eminent  American  statesmen,  scholars, 
preachers,  and  philanthropists  upon  the  influences  of 
Emmet's  life  and  death  upon  the  civilization  of  the 
United  States.  O  yes,  it  is  a  great  number.  That  power- 
ful editorial  has  disentombed,  renewed,  and  made  fresh 
again  the  martyrdom  of  that  gifted  man.  Ford,  I  tell  you, 
Mr.  Pepper,  is  a  Briareus-minded  man!  He  is  not  only 
the  fearless  and  unquailing  champion  of  Ireland,  but  also 
the  bold,  heroic,  and  self-sacrificing,  friend  of  every  op- 
pressed people!  He  is  a  constant,  sincere,  and  guile- 


INTERVIEWS   WITH  EMINENT  MEN.  353 

lessly  honest  laborer  in  every  worthy  cause,  and  in  its  serv- 
ice he  has  lavished  the  profits  of  a  newspaper  that  would 
have  made  him  a  millionaire  in  a  few  years.  Independ- 
ence, sincerity,  and  honor  are  eminently  his  character- 
istics." 
23 


Chapter  XXIII. 
SOME  CONVERSATIONS  WITH  JAMES  G.  ELAINE. 

WHO  can  remember  James  G.  Elaine,  without  think- 
ing of  his  rare  and  eventful  career?  The  grandest 
American  of  his  time,  he  gathered  around  him  every 
other  man  whose  patriotism  or  genius  seemed  likely  to 
advance  the  interests  of  the  cause  to  which  he  was  de- 
voted. 

In  the  life  of  Arnold  of  Rugby  it  is  related  by  his  ac- 
complished biographer,  Thomas  Hughes,  that  the  stu- 
dents of  the  great  master  could  never  hear  his  name 
mentioned  without  tears.  There  are  thousands  of  the 
admirers  of  Mr.  Elaine,  belonging  to  all  parties,  who 
mourn  his  loss  to  his  country.  They  will  always  remem- 
ber him  as  the  patriot,  orator,  and  statesman.  To  deny 
greatness  to  Elaine  is  to  manifest  the  most  partisan  preju- 
dice. If  that  be  not  greatness  which  grasped  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  situation  and  courageously  met  them;  if  that 
be  not  greatness  which  struck  off  the  degrading  doctrine 
of  Europeans  coming  to  this  land,  "Once  a  subject,  al- 
ways a  subject;"  if  that  be  not  statesmanship  which  com- 
pelled Berlin  and  Rome  to  recognize  and  respect  Amer- 
ican diplomacy, — then  we  do  not  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  the  word. 

I  was  living  abroad  when  the  cable  flashed  the  sad 
intelligence  that  Elaine  was  dead.  In  visiting  the  hotels 
to  see  and  talk  with  our  countrymen,  I  met  them  from 
North  and  South,  from  East  and  West,  Democrats  as 
well  as  the  most  enthusiastic  Republicans,  and  all  ac- 

354 


JAMES  G.  ELAINE. 


CONVERSATIONS    WITH  JAMES  G.   ELAINE.  355 

knowledged  but  one  feeling  of  profound  sorrow.  When 
I  put  out  the  flag  from  the  consulate,  as  is  customary 
when  an  illustrious  official  dies,  Italians  in  passing  would 
pause,  look  up,  and  say,  "America  has  lost  a  great  states- 
man/' One  of  the  leading  men  of  Milan  could  find  no 
higher  praise  than  to  compare  him  to  Cavour.  Both 
had  died  in  the  prime  of  life,  both  had  been  honored  with 
public  trusts,  both  would  be  ennobled  in  history  as  bene- 
factors of  their  countries. 

The  first  time  I  ever  met  Mr.  Elaine  was  at  his  pleas- 
ant cottage  in  Bar  Harbor  in  1884.  The  hour  was  late, 
the  family  had  retired;  but  Mr.  Blaine  was  still  up,  and 
he  welcomed  me  cordially.  About  his  first  question  was : 
"You  are  from  Knox  County,  Ohio?"  Kenyon  College, 
where  I  had  been  a  student  many  years  before,  is  in  that 
county.  My  reply  was,  "No,  Mr.  Blaine,  I  am  from 
Wayne  County;  in  the  same  State,  however." 

This  seemed  to  surprise  him,  and  he  responded :  "From 
Wayne  County?  I  can  not  understand  it.  That  is  a 
Democratic  county,  with  six  hundred  Democratic  ma- 
jority. How  is  it  that  you,  a  Methodist  preacher  and  a 
strong  Republican,  have  not  changed  that  vote?"  When 
it  was  explained  to  him  that  Methodist  preachers  only 
remained  three  years  in  a  place,  and  that  the  time  was 
entirely  too  short  to  make  a  change  in  such  a  strong 
Democratic  district,  he  laughed  heartily. 

In  speaking  upon  Irish  subjects,  I  mentioned  Cur- 
ran's  name,  when  Mr.  Blaine  related  an  anecdote  of  the 
great  Irishman.  It  seemed  that  an  acquaintance  had 
told  Curran  of  some  lawyer  who  had  given  imitations 
of  his  style  and  gesture.  "Imitations,"  said  Curran,  "are 
like  a  rat  running  over  the  keys  of  a  piano  and  calling  it 


356  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

At  his  request  I  called  upon  him  again  the  next  morn- 
ing. In  the  meantime  a  letter  from  the  National  Com- 
mittee with  the  list  of  appointments  for  Maine  had  ar- 
rived. I  showed  them  to  Mr.  Elaine.  He  read  them 
hurriedly,  and  then  tore  them  up,  saying :  "Those  places 
are  rock-ribbed  Republican;  they  do  not  need  mission- 
aries and  old  soldiers."  He  then  made  out  a  new  list  of  ap- 
pointments, containing  the  largest  manufacturing  cities 
and  towns  in  the  State. 

As  this  was  my  first  experience  in  politics,  I  asked 
him  for  some  data.  Without  referring  to  any  book  or 
document  whatever,  he  immediately  answered :  "Stick  to 
the  effects  of  free  trade  upon  India  and  Ireland.  Tell 
the  Irish  that  in  the  year  1799  Ireland  exported  fifteen 
million  dollars  worth  of  manufactured  web  linen  to  the 
English  market,  and  that  fifty  per  cent  of  tariff  was  re- 
tained by  the  Irish  Parliament;  that  under  it  one  million 
five  hundred  thousand  of  the  inhabitants  lived  by  manu- 
factures, one  to  every  five  persons  of  the  country;  that 
after  the  destruction  of  Grattan's  Parliament,  with  the 
introduction  of  free  trade,  only  thirty-seven  thousand 
were  engaged  in  manufactures,  one  to  every  two  hundred 
and  eighty  of  the  people,  showing  a  decrease  of  seventy- 
eight  per  cent."  These  statistics  and  a  series  of  others 
he  poured  forth  without  a  minute's  pause,  closing  this 
part  of  his  conversation  with  the  observation  that  there 
was  nothing  sublimer  in  history  than  a  nation  achieving 
such  prosperity  in  eighteen  years,  and  nothing  more  de- 
plorable than  Ireland's  decline  afterwards. 

In  company  with  Judge  W.  H.  West,  of  Bellefontaine, 
Ohio,  I  addressed  a  meeting  at  some  cross-roads  in  Maine. 
The  enthusiasm  was  great,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  de- 
termination to  elect  their  favorite  son  to  the  Presidency. 


CONVERSATIONS   WITH  JAMES  G.   ELAINE.  357 

Afterwards  I  met  Mr.  Blaine  at  Orrville,  Ohio,  a  rail- 
road town  founded  by  Judge  Orr,  a  classmate  of  Mr. 
Blaine.  I  was  en  route  to  Newark,  to  make  a  speech  with 
Senator  Frye,  when  the  train  stopped  at  Orrville.  Blaine 
was  compelled  to  make  a  short  speech.  I  explained  to 
him  the  situation  in  Ohio,  and  he  whispered  in  my  ear 
"What  majority  will  Ohio  give?"  I  answered,  "About 
ten  thousand."  "O,"  he  replied,  "she  must  do  better  than 
that." 

The  next  morning  I  breakfasted  with  him  in  Colum- 
bus. The  first  words  with  which  he  saluted  me  were: 
"Well,  now  what  do  you  think  will  be  the  majority  of 
your  State?"  I  responded,  "Twenty-five  thousand." 
"Why,  how  is  that?  What  has  occurred  since  yesterday 
to  change  your  opinion?"  I  reported  the  immense  meet- 
ing in  Newark,  largely  composed  of  wool-growers;  how 
that  Senator  Frye's  first  sentence,  "Sheep !  sheep !  sheep !" 
captured  and  conquered  hundreds  of  votes;  how  that 
they  flocked  around  Frye,  following  him  to  his  hotel, 
declaring  their  resolution  to  vote  the  Republican  ticket. 
Blaine  enjoyed  immensely  the  description  of  the  senator's 
speech.  Every  now  and  then  he  would  break  out  laugh- 
ing, with  the  words,  "That  is  Frye — just  like  him;  he  is 
the  best  tariff  speaker  in  our  party  for  a  crowd — for  a 
crowd." 

I  embraced  the  hour  or  two  which  he  gave  me  to  get 
his  opinions  and  estimates  of  many  public  characters. 
He  spoke  in  a  low,  measured,  mournful  tone  of  Garfield; 
spoke  of  him  as  a  consummate  politician;  as  one  of  the 
noblest  statesmen  in  our  country;  compared  him  to  one 
of  the  grand  cathedrals  of  the  past,  where  you  pass  from 
one  shrine  to  another  until  you  reach  the  undermost 
crypt,  where  are  preserved  the  most  precious  relics.  This 


358  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

tribute  to  his  dead  friend  was  warm,  spontaneous,  direct 
from  the  heart.  He  inquired  if  I  knew  him.  I  held  up 
a  handsome  blackthorn  stick,  with  the  initial  "G"  upon 
it,  and  related  to  him  how  it  came  into  my  possession. 
I  was  returning  from  Europe  a  few  months  before,  dur- 
ing the  exciting  times  of  Garfield's  assassination,  when 
his  life  was  hanging  in  the  balance.  An  Irish  emigrant 
had  died  on  board,  and  the  captain  asked  me  to  deliver 
an  address  to  raise  some  funds  for  the  destitute  family 
in  Ireland.  I  was  about  half  way  through,  when  the 
pilot  came  on  board  with  the  joyful  news  that  President 
Garfield  was  still  living.  I  announced  it.  The  cheers  were 
so  long  and  loud  that  my  address  was  abruptly  brought 
to  a  close.  A  lady  from  New  Rochelle  was  so  pleased 
with  the  news  that  she  presented  me  with  this  cane.  Mr. 
Elaine  took  the  stick  in  his  hand,  saying  it  was  the  finest 
blackthorn  he  had  ever  seen,  and  remarking,  "The  cir- 
cumstances under  which  you  received  it  will  always  make 
it  a  valuable  relic." 

During  this  conversation  references  were  made  to  the 
charges  of  corruption  so  vindictively  made  against  pub- 
lic men.  Mr.  Elaine  quoted  Burke  with  promptitude : 
"He  who  accuses  everybody  of  corruption,  convicts  but 
one."  He  asked  if  I  had  ever  heard  McKinley,  if  I  knew 
him.  On  my  replying  in  the  negative,  he  spoke  in  the 
most  enthusiastic  language  of  him.  He  said:  "Mr.  Mc- 
Kinley is  one,  if  not  the  greatest,  of  the  leaders  of  the 
party.  He  has  matured  slowly  like  an  oak;  but  like  the 
oak  his  fame  and  usefulness  will  outlast  generations;  full 
of  facts  and  figures,  he  is  the  best  informed  man  on  a  pro- 
tective tariff  in  the  country." 

There  was  some  doubt  about  Thomas  B.  Reed's  sue- 


CONVERSATIONS   WITH  JAMES  G.   ELAINE.  359 

cess  for  Congress  expressed  at  that  time.  I  asked  Mr. 
Elaine  his  opinion :  "Mr.  Reed  is  a  man  full  of  electricity, 
full  of  courage,  full  of  hope!  He  fail?  Impossible!  He 
has  always  won,  and  will  win  this  time."  He  spoke  of 
his  distinguished  opponent  with  judicious  criticism. 

He  inquired  about  the  generals  under  whom  I  had 
served — Sherman,  Logan,  Howard,  Raum.  He  was  an 
intense  admirer  of  General  Sherman.  He  described  the 
results  of  the  war  as  marvelous;  said  that  "the  recon- 
struction of  the  Soutl]  was  a  miracle,  the  boldest  experi- 
ment on  the  grandest  scale  that  the  world  ever  saw.  No 
other  conquered  people  ever  became  reconciled  so  easily. 
Greece  did  not  amalgamate  with  Turkey,  Poland  with 
Russia,  Lombardy  with  Austria,  Ireland  with  England." 
He  was  anxious  to  know  what  would  be  the  strength  of 
the  Irish  vote,  and  spoke  of  Mr.  Ford's  paper  as  able  and 
untiring  in  its  advocacy  of  the  Republican  party. 

When  I  saw  Mr.  Elaine  again  it  was  during  the  Ad- 
ministration of  President  Harrison.  In  one  of  the  visits 
he  spoke  of  his  meeting  the  Duke  of  Abercorn  in  Donegal. 
The  cluke  traced  his  (Elaine's)  descent  back  to  the  blue 
banner  of  the  Covenant.  He  spoke  of  his  conversation 
with  Gladstone ;  how  the  "Grand  Old  Man"  monopolized 
all  the  time,  not  allowing  him  an  opportunity  to  say  a 
word ;  but  the  me'mory  of  his  conversation  was  like  music 
that  always  lingers  in  the  ear. 

In  an  interview  at  this  time  a  brief  reference  was 
made  to  the  cause  of  Elaine's  defeat  in  1884.  He  evi- 
dently was  averse  to  talking  about  it ;  but  as  I  mentioned 
an  incident  in  connection  with  the  Harrison  campaign 
in  a  small  town  near  Utica,  New  York,  where,  out  of 
a  large  Republican  vote,  he  only  received  a  small  num- 


360  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

her,  and  Harrison  three  times  as  many,  I  suggested  that 
it  was  Roscoe  Conkling's  influence.  After  a  moment's 
hesitation,  he  said,  "That  and  the  bad  weather." 

When  I  was  consul  at  Milan,  Italy,  I  frequently  met 
Dr.  Fornoni,  Mr.  Elaine's  physician  when  he  was  there 
several  years  ago.  This  gentleman  was  full  of  remem- 
brances of  his  patient,  and  with  Americans  would  talk 
of  nothing  else.  He  would  tell  of  his  conversations  with 
him,  of  his  despondent  and  melancholy  hours,  of  the 
times  he  would  send  for  him  when  there  was  really  noth- 
ing the  matter  with  him,  of  the  annoyances  of  newspaper 
men.  One  day  I  told  Dr.  P'ornoni  that  I  would  like  to 
have  him  repeat  some  of  the  utterances  of  Mr.  Elaine 
upon  Italy.  "What  you  request  would  be  an  arduous 
task,"  was  the  reply;  "for  I  took  only  a  few  notes.  I 
was  so  bewildered  and  charmed  when  I  listened  to  him 
that  I  could  not  remember  one-half  of  his  rare  sayings. 
As  a  conversationalist  upon  Italian  subjects,  he  knew 
more  and  he  surpassed  all  the  men  I  ever  met.  He  would 
ask  my  opinion,  and  before  I  would  utter  half  a  dozen 
sentences  he  would  pour  such  a  flood  of  light  upon  the 
subject  that  I  became  ashamed  of  my  own  ignorance. 
He  always  exhibited  more  correct  knowledge,  more  warm 
sympathy  with  Italy  than  any  Englishman  or  American 
of  my  acquaintance.  One  time  he  said :  "You  have  a 
wonderful  country.  Its  mountains  are  grand;  its  valleys 
are  beautiful,  its  streams  and  rivers  are  fit  to  turn  the 
machinery  of  Europe,  its  harbors  to  moor  the  commerce 
of  the  world."  Again  he  would  show  his  knowledge  of 
our  political  history,  quoting  the  familiar  utterance  of 
Victor  Emmanuel  after  the  disastrous  battle  of  Novara, — 
Per  Dio,  V Italia  sard  ('By  the  help  of  God,  Italy  shall  be'), 
and  the  Prime  Minister's  exclamation,  'Italy  is  made,  but 


CONVERSATIONS   WITH  JAMES  G.  BLAINE.  361 

who  shall  make  the  Italians?*  He  seemed  to  know  all  by 
heart,  and  predicted  Italy's  brillliant  future;  that  she 
would  never  go  back  to  the  former  times." 

I  then  asked  Dr.  Fornoni  to  tell  me  something  of 
Mr.  Elaine's  criticisms  on  illustrious  Italians.  He  an- 
swered :  "Mr.  Elaine  had  always  words  of  praise  for  Dante. 
He  did  not  like  his  gloomy  grandeur,  and  had  no  sym- 
pathy for  his  morose  views  of  the  hereafter,  but  admired 
and  extolled  him  as  the  maker  of  the  Italian  language. 
He  admired  our  great  novelist,  Alessandro  Manzoni,  and 
believed  his  Tromessi  Sposi'  would  live  forever.  He 
considered  the  most  resplendent  name  in  Italian  history 
to  be  that  of  Cavour,  and  often  repeated  Cavour's  words, 
'Five  and  twenty  centuries  of  accumulated  glories  have 
destined  Rome  to  become  the  capital  of  a  united  king- 
dom.' '  Dr.  Fornoni  continued  to  say  that  Mr.  Elaine 
would  frequently  pause  and  gaze  musingly  at  the  Cavour 
monument  fronting  the  hotel,  in  which  a  symbolical  fig- 
ure of  History  is  writing  the  name  "Cavour." 

The  last  time  I  saw  Mr.  Elaine  was  at  his  own  home  in 
the  city  of  Washington,  where  I  called  to  pay  my  re- 
spects and  to  ask  what  I  should  say  to  his  Italian  friends 
regarding  his  health.  "Tell  them  I  am  as  well  as  ever," 
was  his  quick  reply,  and  his  beaming  countenance  and 
whole  bearing  seemed  to  bear  witness  to  his  words.  In 
an  hour  or  two  afterwards,  as  I  was  entering  Mr.  Harri- 
son's room,  Mr.  Elaine  was  coming  out.  Richard  Kerens, 
the  Republican  leader,  was  also  about  to  visit  the  Presi- 
dent. Mr.  Elaine  grasped  his  hand  joyously,  with  the 
salutation,  "Richard,  how  are  you?"  Then  he  turned 
to  me,  and,  speaking  with  deliberation,  said:  "Parnell 
is  dead.  Although  preceded  by  Burke  in  his  procla- 
mation of  Ireland's  wrongs ;  by  Grattan,  who  pleaded  for 


362  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Irish  independence;  and  by  O'Connell, — yet  Parnell  has 
accomplished  more  than  all  of  them." 

This  was  my  last  interview  with  James  G.  Elaine. 
He,  too,  is  dead;  but  as  the  years  roll  on  his  name  will 
brighten  with  increasing  splendor,  and  as  the  young  men 
of  the  future  will  ask  their  elders  who  was  the  most 
illustrious  American  of  the  day,  the  answer  will  be, 
"James  G.  Elaine." 


Chapter  XXIV. 

MISCELLANEOUS   PAPERS— FOUR  TYPICAL   ORA- 
TORS:    CHARLES  SUMNER,  BISHOP  SIMP- 
SON, FATHER  AGOSTINO,  WILLIAM 
JENNINGS    BRYAN. 

THE  inanity  of  oratory  has  been  a  prolific  theme  for 
the  pens  of  many  powerful  writers,  and  the  mystic 
might  of  silent  work  and  speechless  labor  has  had  its 
panegyrists.  This  is  a  reaction,  and  as  such  it  is  par- 
tial, nor  should  it  be  wholly  yielded  to.  All  men  are 
wearied  with  the  hollow  phrase-mongering  and  maneu- 
vers of  platforming,  and  the  paltry  declarations  of  dema- 
gogues. But  not  the  less  hollow  and  vain  are  the  solemn 
shams  of  the  silent,  who  pass  off  as  wise  men  because 
they  are  wordless,  and  frown  the  talker  into  disrepute. 
It  is  said  that  this  is  the  age  of  action.  Fools!  Is  not 
the  orator  a  man  of  action?  Pericles  ruled  Athens  by  the 
magic  of  his  tongue,  and  Demosthenes  preserved  the 
fainting  liberties  of  Greece  by  his  eloquence. 

Let  us  not  be  led  away  by  the  crowd  who  denounce 
the  speaker  and  extol  the  worker;  for  talking  is  a  neces- 
sity of  our  nature.  Like  every  duty,  it  is  also  a  privilege. 
It  has  been  abused  and  perverted,  as  all  good  things  are 
when  not  in  harmony  with  their  relations.  It  has  often 
been  severed  from  the  uses  of  life  and  made  the  weapon 
wherewith  the  indolent  war  against  time;  the  weapon 
of  abuse,  the  apologist  of  crime !  And  yet  these  are  the 
abuses  of  oratory,  and  not  reasons  for  silence.  There 
lies  a  power  and  a  blessing  in  speech  the  world  but  little 

363 


364  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

dreams  of.  Our  existence  vibrates  between  speech  and 
silence.  These  are  the  day  and  night  of  thought.  Speech 
or  oratory  spreading  its  sunlight  into  the  corners  of  the 
mind,  showing  the  minute  and  paltry,  the  great  and  the 
beautiful;  silence,  with  its  star  sheen  and  deep  depth  of 
sky,  revealing  beauty  and  the  ideal  to  the  watching  soul ; 
silence  preparing  what  speech  propounds — the  one  the 
reality,  the  other  the  revelation, — let  neither  be  exalted 
or  despised  above  the  other;  they  are  twin  gifts  of  God, 
and  both  are  holy.  A  world  of  silence  would  be  a  model 
prison ;  a  world  of  talk,  a  Babel  of  parrots. 

I  have  said  that  the  popular  outcry  against  oratory 
is  a  reaction.  Thomas  Carlyle  utters  his  vehement  pro- 
test against  speech,  deifies  action,  and  his  followers  echo 
him.  Every  disciple  of  the  eccentric  Scotch  philosopher 
exclaims  that  it  is  time  to  stop  talking  and  to  begin 
to  act.  Every  one  wants  some  one  else  busy  doing 
something.  They  are  in  an  uproar  to  create  silence. 
What  is  oratory  but  a  means  to  realize  the  purpose  of  our 
minds?  What  is  it  but  a  struggle  to  reach  and  release 
the  spirit  which,  imprisoned,  aspires  to  the  infinite,  as 
a  caged  eagle  pants  for  a  free  flight  seawards? 

Wonderful  is  the  power  of  speech !  It  is  godlike,  it 
is  creative — a  holy  office,  a  noble  employ,  which  distin- 
guishes life  from  mere  existence.  It  reveals  the  attributes 
of  the  spirit,  the  motions  of  the  intellect,  the  holiness  of 
the  affections.  The  idea  which  it  incarnates  alone  is 
intrinsic — is  the  jewel  set  in  words.  It  is  sad  to  think 
how  this  divine  privilege  has  been  abused  by  alleged  ora- 
tors; how  trivial,  feeble,  fruitless  it  has  become,  until 
it  is  deemed  nobler  to  weave  cloth  and  forge  horse-shoes 
than  to  cultivate  the  divine  art  of  speech.  True  oratory 
demands  a  purpose.  When  the  blacksmith,  having  heated 


TYPICAL   ORATORS.  365 

his  iron  bar,  swings  his  mighty  hammer  on  to  his  anvil 
till  the  sparks  fall  in  showers  around  him,  he  hath  a  pur- 
pose, a  defined  purpose,  to  make  a  horse-shoe.  There 
is  evinced  in  all  oratory  either  an  absence  of  all  purpose 
or  ignorance  of  the  way  to  effect  it.  Any  one  of  the 
typical  orators  never  speaks  without  a  purpose;  and  then 
oratory  is  divine.  Sages  become  their  disciples,  and  then 
orators  influence  the  after-fate  of  the  race.  No  intellect 
so  poor,  no  mind  so  uneducated,  as  may  not  be  useful 
if  they  have  a  purpose..  Speech  is  man's  mightiest  gift. 
It  is  like  a  mighty  river,  which,  bearing  weeds  and  rub- 
bish in  its  waters,  floats  also  the  stately  barks  of  thought, 
and  is  the  channel  for  the  commerce  of  information.  Why 
should  we  worship  silence?  Oratory  is  the  life  of  thought. 
An  unspoken  idea  remains  a  dream.  The  sculptor  ex- 
presses his  thought  in  marble,  the  painter  in  colors,  the 
builder  in  houses,  the  musician  in  notes,  the  weaver  in 
cloth,  the  tailor  in  garments,  and  the  speaker  in  words. 
It  is  not  the  material  which  is  valued  in  these;  it  is  the 
idea  which  informs  and  underlies  them,  which  is  the 
beauty  of  art  and  the  utility  of  the  manufacturer.  Al- 
though the  orator  trusts  his  idea  to  the  pliant  air,  the 
subtle  element  surrounding  the  tympanum  of  the  ear 
discharges  there  its  precious  burden  into  the  storehouse 
of  the  brain.  The  exchange  of  ideas  is  as  veritable  a 
storehouse  of  merchandise  as  our  commerce  in  wheat  or 
cotton;  its  products  are  more  precious,  its  agency  more 
powerful.  Yea,  in  a  happier  age,  towards  which  the  hand 
of  the  Almighty  urges  the  world  like  a  ball,  the  most 
valued  and  delightful  work  of  man  will  be  the  inter- 
changing of  ideas,  the  expression  of  emotion,  the  embodi- 
ment of  intellect  in  the  perfected  medium  of  speech.  The 
word  is  mightier  than  the  book.  The  mother's  voice, 


366  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

sweeter  than  the  harps  of  angels,  distills  instruction  on 
her  child's  inquiring  mind,  gentle  yet  effective  as  the  dew 
upon  the  grass.  The  youth  learns  as  he  listens;  for  it  is 
the  oral  explanation  of  the  teacher,  not  the  rule  of  the 
book,  which  he  understands.  The  wife,  sitting  by  her 
husband's  side,  listens  to  his  talk  on  the  events  of  the  day. 
The  friends,  in  conversing  together,  unfold  the  tangled 
mysteries,  and  the  darkness  of  doubt  vanishes  before  the 
ray  of  light.  The  true  mission  of  speech  is  a  holy  one. 
It  has  been  abused;  every  medal  has  its  reverse! 

CHARLES  SUMNER. 

Among  those  who  most  adequately  illustrate  the  quali- 
ties of  oratory  as  described  in  these  lines,  is  Charles  Sum- 
ner.  It  is  usual  for  the  living  to  call  the  histories  of  the 
dead  riddles.  Cromwell  is  a  riddle,  Lincoln  is  a  riddle, 
Gladstone  is  a  riddle.  Everything  is  a  riddle  to  those 
who  have  not  the  wish  or  patience  to  explore  its  latent 
meaning;  and  Charles  Sumner,  born  to  wealth,  leisure, 
and  luxury,  becoming  the  champion  of  the  downtrodden, 
would  also  be  a  riddle  if  his  motives  had  not  been  ex- 
plained by  his  subsequent  life.  He  was  called  at  first  a 
demagogue.  Never  was  a  falser  aspersion  leveled  at  the 
character  of  a  true,  fearless,  and  dignified  champion  of 
human  rights.  The  charge  is  so  far  removed  from  the 
bright  truth  that  sparkles  in  every  incident  of  his  life  that 
the  ardent  lover  of  liberty  feels  the  incapacity  of  words 
to  give  utterance  to  the  deep  indignation  which  stirs 
within  him  at  the  aspersion. 

"Who  is  the  first  orator  of  England?"  a  stupid  person 
once  asked  Lord  Brougham.  "Lord  Derby  is  the  sec- 
ond." This  was  the  self-conscious  reply.  The  inquirer 
had  forgotten  that  Henry  Brougham  had  been  in  his 


CHARLES  SUMNER.  367 

time  the  defender  of  Queen  Caroline,  the  champion  of 
Reform,  and  as  the  advocate  of  Negro  emnacipation  had 
made  all  England  ring  with  his  fame.  If  Charles  Sumner 
was  not  the  first  orator  of  this  country,  he  was  undoubt- 
edly the  second.  He  had  all  the  grand  attributes  of  the 
orator.  He  was  tall,  and  remarkable  for  his  presence — 
his  countenance  a  model  of  manly  beauty,  his  face  oval, 
and  the  complexion  clear  and  mantling,  the  forehead  lofty 
and  white.  But  it  was  the  eye  that  flashed  with  piercing 
scrutiny  when  all  the  character  of  the  man  came  forth. 

One  quality  of  his  oratory  was  his  thoroughness,  his 
learning,  and  his  power  of  finishing,  rubbing  his  sentences 
so  fine  that  nothing  could  be  added.  He  took  all  nature 
for  his  illustrations.  It  might  be  said  of  him  as  was  said 
of  Brougham  by  an  opposing  lawyer  at  the  English  bar, 
that  "when  Brougham  got  hold  of  any  subject,  he  nailed 
it,  and  nailed  and  nailed  it,  till  no  man  could  nail  it  any 
faster."  Brougham,  in  his  reply,  readily  admitted  that 
he  did  endeavor  to  make  the  best  of  his  case,  and  so  did 
his  opponent;  the  only  difference  was  that  of  method. 
Granting  himself  to  be  a  nailer,  he  did  not  know  of  any 
term  so  appropriate  to  his  opponent  as  that  of  a  polisher ; 
for  when  he  got  hold  of  a  case  he  polished  it,  and  polished 
it,  until  he  made  it  so  superlatively  bright  that  it  was  sure 
in  the  end  to  dazzle  his  own  imagination,  and  lay  a  trap 
for  his  better  judgment.  Both  illustrations  are  certainly 
happy  in  their  application  to  Mr.  Sumner. 

Charles  Sumner  was  aided  in  his  oratory  by  a  faultless 
elocution.  His  style  was  dignified  and  correct;  and  if  it 
smells  somewhat  of  the  lamp,  this  peculiarity  ought  to  be 
overlooked,  since  it  was  found  even  in  the  orations  of 
Demosthenes  himself. 

In   Sumner's  speeches  against   slavery  we  have  the 


368  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

grave  and  gradual  march  of  one  whose  heart  is  in  his 
theme,  and  who  carries  all  things  before  him,  like  a  land- 
slide, which  bears  trees  and  rocks  and  flowers  along  with 
it,  and  so  covers  the  ground  on  which  it  settles  as  to  hide 
every  trace  of  prior  occupancy. 

And  yet,  in  the  true  signification  of  the  word,  Charles 
Sumner  was  a  demogogue.  He  kept  company  with  the 
sublimest  poets,  the  most  profound  philosophers,  and  the 
courageous  reformers  of  all  ages.  Who  were  the  bold 
spirits  who  battled  on  the  floors  of  Parliament  and  on  the 
popular  rostrum  for  the  great  truths  of  freedom  and 
righteousness?  Who  the  friends  of  humanity,  whose  elo- 
quence and  activity  in  the  cause  of  the  people  have  broken 
one  after  another  the  bands  that  confined  their  energies 
and  kept  them  the  feeble  suppliants  of  a  proud  and  opu- 
lent aristocracy?  Who  the  men  whose  burning  invectives 
made  the  great  nobles  of  England  tremble  before  the 
majesty  of  the  people?  They  were  such  demagogues  as 
O'Connell,  Brougham,  and  Thompson!  They  revered 
the  people.  Charles  Sumner  was  a  demagogue  in  the 
highest  and  grandest  sense.  Throughout  the  glorious 
battle  of  slave  emancipation,  his  fearless  eloquence  was 
a  torrent  of  consuming  power,  poured  into  every  rampart 
of  oppression.  Under  the  terrible  pressure  of  his  fierce 
invectives,  the  slaveholder  paled  with  hate  and  appre- 
hension. 

WTe  have  always  felt  universal  admiration  for  Sumner. 
When  he  commenced  public  life,  the  anti-slavery  cause 
was  a  bundle  of  broken  factions,  which  his  genius  and 
eloquence  led  to  triumph.  We  admired  him  when  he 
made  that  magnificent  plea  for  peace  as  the  true  grandeur 
of  the  Nation.  It  was  a  true,  bold,  and  intrepid  picture 
of  the  storms  of  war.  We  admired  him  when  he  delivered 


CHARLES  SUMNER.  369 

that  masterly  speech  against  the  extension  of  slavery  to 
Kansas.  Strong  and  vigorous  were  the  fearless  attacks 
upon  the  proud  citadel  of  slavery.  It  broke  the  mental 
lethargy  of  the  Nation;  it  promised  the  splendid  dawn 
of  emancipation ;  it  hastened  the  day-star  of  liberty.  The 
Northern  mind  burst  its  cerements,  and  issued  forth  like 
a  strong  man  after  a  sleep.  We  admired  him  when  he 
pronounced  that  memorable  impeachment  upon  the  "Bar- 
barism of  Slavery,"  when  he  demonstrated  its  terrible  in- 
fluence upon  its  brethren  apologists,  compelling  them  to 
do  its  behests  and  to  write  "slave"  upon  their  intelligent 
faculties.  It  was  unanswerable,  and  hence  the  resort  to 
the  blows  which  were  rained  upon  Sumner's  head  as  he 
sat  at  his  desk.  These  blows  killed  Sumner.  They  also 
killed  slavery.  Nothing  gratifies  the  curiosity  of  sight- 
seers more  than  to  know  the  exact  spot  of  historical 
events.  The  first  question  of  visitors'  to  the  English 
Parliament  is  to  ask  where  Gladstone  stood  when  he  de- 
livered his  famous  Home  Rule  speeches.  So  it  is  with 
the  friends  of  human  freedom.  When  they  visit  Wash- 
ington they  ask  where  did  Sumner  sit  when  Brooks  crept 
up  stealthily  and  struck  the  mighty  orator.  But  never 
did  we  admire  Sumner  so  much  as  when,  the  war  being 
over,  he  took  his  stand  by  the  defeated  Confederates,  and 
in  the  spirit  of  Him  whose  birth  was  announced  by  the 
songs  of  angels,  pleaded  with  an  eloquence  sweet  and 
powerful  that  no  thorns  should  be  planted  where  the 
olive  had  taken  root. 

These  speeches  are  the  most  perfect  of  Sumner's  ora- 
tions. If  you  want  to  study  oratory  in  books  read  Grat- 
tan,  Sheil,  O'Connell.  For  amplitude  of  stride  and  rich 
adornment  of  style,  Burke  is  unrivaled.  For  rapidity, 
epic  grandeur,  and  epigrammatic  point,  Grattan  has  no 
24 


37°  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

equal.  Webster  is  the  splendid  orator  whose  grand  serv- 
ices to  his  country  have  been  of  the  highest  order;  who 
dethroned  from  the  belief  of  many  Americans  the  delu- 
sions of  Hayne,  and  vindicated  the  supremacy  of  the 
Union;  "who  had  a  voice  like  the  sound  of  the  sea,  pure 
as  the  naked  heaven." 

FATHER  AGOSTINO. 

It  is  with  no  ordinary  feelings  that  I  undertake  the 
task  of  sketching  this  famous  preacher,  the  Savonarola 
of  modern  Italy.  He  has  many  of  the  shining  qualities 
which  are  admired  by  all  lovers  of  eloquence;  and  he  is 
exalted  still  higher  in  the  enlightened  estimation  of  Chris- 
tians and  moralists  by  commanding  these  qualities  for  the 
good  of  mankind,  ready  to  employ  them  for  that  purpose 
whenever  they  are  called  for,  and  equally  anxious  when 
they  are  not  to  employ  his  leisure  in  improving  them  for 
future  use.  If  true  eloquence  is  good  sense,  delivered  in 
a  natural  and  unaffected  way,  without  the  artificial  orna- 
ments of  tropes  and  figures,  then  Father  Agostino  is 
primus  inter  pares.  Our  common  eloquence  is  usually 
a  cheat  upon  the  understanding.  It  deceives  us  with 
appearances  instead  of  realities,  and  makes  us  think  we 
see  reason,  whilst  it  is  only  tickling  our  senses. 

He  is  about  medium  size,  well  proportioned,  and  his 
face  exhibits  the  perfection  of  manly  beauty  mellowed 
by  the  soft  touches  of  age.  The  features  are  refined,  and 
the  complexion  clear  and  ruddy.  The  nose  is  on  the 
Roman  model,  and  the  chin  slightly  peaked.  The  mouth 
bespeaks  great  archness;  the  eyes  have  a  quick,  pene- 
trating expression.  The  clear  metallic  voice  is  faultless 
in  intonation,  now  ringing  out  like  a  trumpet,  now  soft 
and  tender  like  a  child's.  For  an  hour  (his  sermons  never 


.     FATHER  AGOSTIJVO.  371 

exceed  that)  he  keeps  his  audience  entranced — now  soar- 
ing in  ambitious  flights  and  piling  up  a  grand  array  of 
words;  now  flashing  forth  with  unexpected  allusions  and 
similes ;  now  overwhelming  with  a  torrent  of  ridicule ;  now 
piercing  infidelity  with  the  keen  dagger  of  his  sarcasm. 

Much  of  his  success  is  attributed  to  his  fascinating 
address,  which  forms  the  great  charm  of  his  oratory. 
Even  the  pope  is  not  proof  against  the  potency  of  this 
enchanted  wand.  The  first  element  in  Father  Agostino's 
preaching  is  his  sincerity.  He  worships  truth  as  if  it  were 
God.  He  is  Truth  personified.  He  sees  that  lies  abound 
everywhere,  and  he  arises,  like  another  Peter  the  Hermit, 
and  preaches  a  bold  and  fearless  crusade.  He  has  no 
concealments,  everything  is  as  open  as  the  day. 

Faith  is  another  powerful  factor  in  his  sermons.  He 
believes,  therefore  he  speaks.  He  looks  out  upon  the 
world  and  sees  that  faith  is  dead,  strangled  by  the  worldli- 
ness  of  man.  The  age  is  material,  it  is  an  iron  age.  The 
eye  is  fixed  upon  business  and  politics.  Better  far  the 
faith  of  the  pagan,  who  bows  to  the  stars,  than  to  bow 
the  knee  before  the  many  gods  of  fashion,  of  money,  and 
of  fame.  In  this  moral  wilderness  he  adopts  the  senti- 
ment of  Wesley,  and  cries  out, 

"  Faith,  mighty  Faith,  the  promise  sees, 

And  looks  to  that  alone; 
Laughs  at  impossibilities, 

And  cries,  'It  shall  be  done!'" 

He  has  another  element  in  his  ministrations.  He  is 
courageous.  He  fears  no  man,  and  admires  men  of  cour- 
age. He  gazes  with  admiration  on  Thor,  wielding  his 
hammer  and  crushing  rocks;  on  Xavier,  inspired  by  a 
heavenly  zeal,  and  exclaiming  in  his  dying  moments, 
"Farther,  farther  yet;"  on  Mirabeau,  all  seared  and 


372  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

scarred  with  wounds,  "a  tiger  with  the  small-pox,"  beard- 
ing the  infuriated  mob ;  on  Savonarola,  shaking  Italy  with 
his  thundering  tones;  on  Napoleon,  starting  from  the 
little  olive-complexioned  lieutenant,  sweeping  thrones 
and  dynasties  before  him  like  chaff. 

Here  is  a  specimen  of  Agostino's  eloquence,  selected 
at  random  from  a  volume  of  his  sermons  in  Italian.  It  is 
entitled,  "The  Purpose  of  Life:"  "And  now  let  us  con- 
template the  most  innocent,  the  purest,  and  the  most 
perfectly-regulated  affection  that  could  animate  the  heart 
of  man.  Will  it  suffice  to  fill  it,  to  satisfy  it?  No !  because 
a  secret  sense  of  satiety  brings  with  it  a  haunting  fear,  of 
which  the  tears  shed  in  moments  of  complete  and  apparent 
happiness  are  irrefragable  proof.  And  the  greater  the 
affection  becomes,  the  more  does  the  heart  long  for  the 
Infinite.  My  God,  my  God,  for  what  purpose  didst  thou 
create  the  heart  of  man?  He  created  it  for  himself.  Then 
let  us  follow  the  instinct  of  our  heart,  and  if  the  heart  is 
oppressed  with  the  weight  of  the  earth  and  its  cares,  it 
will  carry  us  straight  home,  then,  to  God.  Again,  if  not 
content  with  interrogating  the  superior  faculties  of  our 
nature,  we  ask  the  same  question  of  those  faculties  which 
address  themselves  to  material  objects;  they  receive  the 
same  answer.  Interrogate  our  sensibilities.  They  are 
never  satisfied.  Our  energies  will  not  sleep,  like  Hanni- 
bal, upon  the  victories  of  yesterday.  They  must  have 
some  new  sphere  for  activity.  Ask  the  artists,  artists 
of  all  ranks.  What  do  you  find?  You  will  find  a  man 
whose  first  word  is  a  protest  against  his  incapacity  to  reach 
the  ideal  standard  he  has  set  before  him.  You  will  see 
Virgil  about  to  throw  his  ^Eneid  into  the  flames ;  Michael 
Angelo  in  sad,  silent  contemplation  of  his  statues  because 
his  mind  has  conceived  a  Colossus  not  to  be  compassed 


FATHER  AGOSTINO.  373 

by  his  hand.  You  will  see  Leonardo  da  Vinci  leave  his 
immortal  Cenacolo  incomplete.  You  will  see  Tasso  bit- 
terly regretting  that  he  ever  wrote  the  'Gerusalemme 
Liberata,'  and  Milton  preferring  some  imperfect  ode  to 
his  Taradise  Lost.'  And  last  of  all,  the  musician,  to 
prove  this  undeniable  truth:  the  last  echoes  of  his  mel- 
odies have  died  away,  and  he  listens  for  them  still,  and 
strains  his  ears  to  catch  the  harmonies  which  elude  him, 
and  so  prove  to  him  his  incapacity  for  reaching  the  per- 
fection of  his  heart.  Why  is  it?  Why  is  it  that  the 
nearer  we  approach  to  our  ideal,  the  farther  it  seems  to 
depart  from  us?  I  ask  the  question  here  in  the  midst  of 
all  the  masterpieces  of  genius.  I  ask  you,  do  you  not 
feel  the  love  of  the  beautiful  increasing,  and  not  diminish- 
ing, the  farther  we  penetrate  into  it?  My  brethren,  it  is 
the  property  of  all  the  arts  to  take  our  souls  to  God.  O 
Raffaelo!  I  have  gazed  upon  thy  sublime  frescoes,  and 
have  remained  in  mute  admiration  hours  before  I  have 
turned  away  from  that  immortal  page  in  the  Vatican, 
while  my  soul  has  flown  up  to  God.  Rossini!  Bellini! 
I  have  listened  to  your  melodies,  your  symphonies,  in  a 
transport  of  happiness,  and  while  I  have  showered  bless- 
ings upon  you  for  having  given  such  an  interpretation 
to  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  I  felt  my  own  heart  caught 
up  to  the  throne  of  God.  Yet  once  again  answer  me. 
How  often,  when  from  the  summit  of  some  hill  you  have 
watched  the  sun  sinking  in  the  horizon,  you  have  felt 
your  heart  lifted  up  involuntarily  tp  heaven !  How  often 
in  that  solemn  hour  when  some  nameless  feeling  of  melan- 
choly has  gained  possession  of  you,  have  you  not  asked 
your  soul,  Why  art  thou  sad?  Whence  this  melancholy? 
What  is  it  thou  desirest?  Dost  thou  follow  the  fleeting 
cloud  with  thy  longing  gaze?  But  what  dost  thou  want 


374  UNDER  THREE  FLAGb. 

with  that  cloud?  Dost  thou  watch  the  course  of  the  flow- 
ing water?  But  what  dost  thou  want  with  that  water? 
And  the  soul  will  answer,  I  am  athirst  for  God." 

This  splendid  passage  is  quoted  from  one  of  his  ser- 
mons preached  in  Florence,  where  from  eight  to  ten 
thousand  persons  listened  to  him  daily.  Sermons 
preached  in  the  morning  were  published  at  noon,  and 
read  by  multitudes. 

I  heard  this  great  preacher  several  times  in  Milan, 
and  noted  with  deep  interest  the  effect  his  discourses  had 
upon  his  hearers.  While  the  greater  part  of  them  were 
workmen,  there  was  also  a  large  number  of  scholars, 
army  officers,  and  artists.  When  he  told  a  pathetic  story, 
hundreds  wept ;  when  he  pronounced  a  fine  climax,  many 
cheered;  and  all  exclaimed,  "Bene!  bene!"  ("Good, 
good !")  When  the  crowds  were  moved  with  excitement, 
the  preacher  was  calm.  When  he  ascended  the  pulpit,  and 
the  clerk  drew  aside  the  curtain,  the  sea  of  expectant 
humanity  hushed  before  the  smile  of  his  face. 

There  are  many  stories  told  of  Father  Agostino's  early 
sermons.  He  frequently  brought  his  hearers  to  their 
knees.  He  broke  the  chain  of  centuries  of  bondage  to  the 
custom  of  having  a  prompter,  called  suggeritore,  in  the 
pulpit.  His  preaching  was  all  natural ;  no  pompous  ges- 
tures; no  mouthing,  no  posturing.  He  preached  for  im- 
mediate effect.  Once  upon  a  time,  when  his  penitent 
audience  were  showing  signs  of  contrition,  he  cried  out, 
"Now  all  of  you  who  sincerely  repent  of  your  sins,  hold 
up  your  hands."  Every  man  in  the  vast  audience 
stretched  out  both  his  hands.  "Holy  archangel  Michael," 
exclaimed  the  preacher,  "thou  who  with  adamantine  sword 
standest  at  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,  hew  off  every 


BISHOP  SIMPSON.  375 

hand  which  has  been  raised  hypocritically."  In  an  in- 
stant every  hand  dropped,  and  Agostino  poured  forth  a 
fresh  torrent  of  eloquent  denunciation  against  their  hy- 
pocrisy. 

Under  such  fervent  preaching  there  are  no  empty 
seats;  no  indifferent  hearers;  no  complaints  that  the  gos- 
pel— the  old,  eternal  gospel — has  lost  its  thrilling  and 
converting  power. 

BISHOP  SIMPSON. 

Matthew  Simpson,  in  my  earlier  days,  as  a  Methodist 
preacher  stood  in  the  van  of  living  celebrities  for  purity 
of  style,  range  of  thought,  simplicity  of  elucidation,  and 
cogency  of  argument.  I  wish  I  could  present  him  as  when 
I  first  heard  him  in  one  of  his  old-fashioned  fiery  ser- 
mons. Let  us  recall  a  single  instance.  It  was  at  the 
Methodist  Conference  held  in  Mansfield  in  the  early  six- 
ties. The  church  was  too  small,  and  the  bishop  preached 
in  the  open  air.  The  crowd  was  immense,  but  reverent. 
Expectation  was  high.  At  length  a  stooped  form  made 
its  way  to  the  improvised  pulpit.  He  looked  neither  to 
the  right  nor  left,  but  slowly  ascended  the  rostrum  and 
bowed  in  prayer.  When  he  rose  to  give  out  the  first 
hymn,  the  face  was  illuminated  with  a  heavenly  beauty, 
the  whole  body  seemed  to  be  transfigured.  The  lesson 
was  read,  and  the  sermon  came  at  last.  The  introduction 
was  brief;  the  divisions  were  annuonced  in  the  old  way, — 
firstly,  secondly,  etc.  The  voice,  in  the  beginning  husky, 
soon  became  clear  and  musical.  The  logic  of  the  sermon 
was  unanswerable.  Genius  began  to  kindle.  The  cli- 
maxes were  the  admiration  of  the  eager  audience.  The 
power  of  the  highest  dwelt  in  his  soul,  and  raised  him 
to  the  dignity  of  a  prophet.  Hundreds  turned  aside  and 


376  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

wept.  There  was  nothing  local,  nothing  sectarian,  noth- 
ing earthly,  nothing  circumscribed,  in  his  magnificent 
utterances.  He  marched  with  a  sublime  movement,  and 
carried  his  enraptured  hearers  with  him  to  heaven.  Im- 
agination can  not  linger  on  a  finer  picture  than  was  pre- 
sented that  day.  The  first  part  of  the  sermon  was  hardly 
over,  when  the  people  felt  that  a  splendid  model  of  a  man 
was  before  them.  The  very  stones,  the  altar,  the  pulpit, 
the  seats, — all  seemed  to  move;  and  the  only  inactive 
thing  in  the  enchanted  spot  was  the  preacher's  body.  The 
soul  of  the  orator  reigned  ascendant  over  a  captive  audi- 
ence. He  never  paused  in  his  sacred  declamation,  he 
never  hesitated  for  a  word.  He  spoke  as  one  breathless 
with  haste,  lest  his  grand  thoughts  should  go  unrecorded. 
His  eye,  hand,  and  form  were  in  perpetual  speech.  Noth- 
ing was  abrupt  to  those  who  could  see  him,  except  when 
some  flash  would  burst  out  with  such  sudden  splendor  as 
to  leave  them  suspended  and  dazzled  too  strongly  to  fol- 
low the  lusters  that  shot  after  it  with  restless  illumina- 
tions. 

"  Now  one  glance  around,  now  upward  turns  his  brow, 
Hushed  every  breath — he  rises,  mark  him  now! " 

But  on  this  occasion  every  breath  was  not  hushed. 
From  that  thronging  multitude  of  heads  and  faces  arose 
a  chorus  of  halleluiahs.  As  he  gradually  unfolded  his 
splendid  theme,  and  showed  the  richer  fields  of  investi- 
gation which  are  disclosed  to  the  angels  from  the  Church, 
the  seed  field  of  the  glory  of  God;  when  he  painted  the 
principalities  and  virtues,  with  their  heads  inclined  down- 
wards, bent  on  learning,  if  possible,  the  notes  of  the  Al- 
mighty's revealed  purpose,  and  that  from  the  death  of 
Christ  the  universe  has  been  dated  anew ;  when  he  proved 
that  the  Church  was  the  mirror  of  mirrors  for  reflecting 


BISHOP  SIMPSON.  377 

the  many-colored  wisdom  of  the  Divine  nature,  and  that 
the  primitive  inhabitants  of  heaven  were  attracted  to 
earth  to  learn  new  aspects  of  redemption, — as  these  sub- 
lime visions  flashed  across  the  mind  of  the  orator,  the 
blood  mounted,  glistening  in  his  face,  and  the  homely 
physiognomy  was  illuminated  with  a  sort  of  oratorical 
sunshine.  The  mantle  of  Whitefield  had  fallen  from 
heaven  upon  Bishop  Simpson. 

At  one  part  of  his  sermon,  I  remember,  by  a  gesture, 
a  glance  from  his  eagle  eye,  the  bishop  awed  the  audience 
into  deathlike  stillness.  Then  like  a  torrent  his  unpre- 
meditated and  convincing  oratory  rushed  into  the  heart, 
expelling  rooted  convictions.  How  daring  were  his 
strange  digressions!  how  apposite  his  illustrations!  how 
magnificent  the  form  and  structure  of  his  thought!  how 
soul-stirring  his  high  and  stern  appeals!  To  my  dying 
day  I  shall  always  recall  that  illuminated  countenance, 
the  characteristic  actions,  the  sublime  self-forgetfulness  of 
that  great  Methodist  bishop.  There  must  surely  have 
been  wonderful  capability  of  argument,  vast  knowledge, 
a  faculty  of  persuasion  irresistible  in  its  winning  grace, 
.all  combined  in  the  preacher  of  whom  Chief- Justice  Chase 
said  to  me,  "He  is  the  greatest  pulpit  orator  in  Christen- 
dom." Fragments  of  Simpson's  oratory  only  have 
reached  us.  It  was  all  so  natural,  so  easy — as  spontaneous 
as  Nature's  creation  of  the  violets.  He  was  never  like 
the  ranter,  blowing  himself  up;  never  like  the  fuming 
speaker  to  whom  it  was  shouted,  "Your  face  is  so  red  it 
makes  me  hot !" 

What  type  of  oratory  does  Bishop  Simpson  repre- 
sent? He  was  not  argumentative,  discursive,  and  meta- 
physical, like  Edwards  and  Foster,  those  Euclids  of  the- 
ology; he  was  not  an  orator  of  memories  and  gorgeous 


378  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

rhetoric,  like  Guard  and  Punshon,  those  polished  dia- 
monds of  Methodism;  he  was  not  an  orator  of  calm  and 
ripe  culture,  like  Dr.  Payne ;  he  had  not  the  varied  scholar- 
ship, the  tender  feeling,  the  simple  pathos,  and  the  splen- 
did imagery  of  the  Delaware  president;  he  was  not  an 
orator  like  Phillips  Brooks,  whose  ear-piercing  intona- 
tions and  clattering  articulation  produced  a  dissonance 
so  whimsically  harsh  that  it  can  only  be  likened  to  the 
squeal  of  a  singed  terrier  tied  to  an  old  wagon,  which 
the  horses  are  taking  down  a  precipitous  hill.  To  none 
of  these  types  does  Bishop  Simpson  belong.  To  none 
of  them  could  he,  with  his  great  and  superb  genius  and 
soaring  soul,  belong.  But  in  his  own  sphere  he  was 
unique,  unapproached,  and  unapproachable. 

He  was  pious  without  hypocrisy,  virtuous  without 
ostentation.  He  loved  mankind.  The  pulpit  was  his 
pride  and  his  glory.  He  realized  Quintilian's  definition 
of  an  orator,  "A  good  man  skilled  in  the  art  of  speaking." 
He  surpassed  all  his  contemporaries.  There  have  been 
preachers  who  have  preached  in  a  more  solemn  strain; 
philosophers  who  understood  more  clearly  the  force  of 
everlasting  truth;  poets  who  uttered  higher  notes  of  en- 
chantment,— but  in  no  age  have  intellectual  power,  moral 
worth,  social  dignity,  evangelical  fervor,  sound  doctrine, 
been  so  admirably  blended  as  in  the  life  and  preaching  of 
Matthew  Simpson.  Yes,  gifted  and  beloved  man,  happy 
the  Church  of  which  you  were  the  pastor  and  the  bishop ! 
Happy  the  country  when  patriotism  was  stirred  to  a  lofty 
aim  by  thy  brilliant  and  touching  eloquence !  Venerable 
son  of  Wesley,  the  Nation  did  itself  honor  by  thy  selection 
as  orator  over  the  dead  body  of  the  martyred  and  im- 
mortal Lincoln.  Thy  life  was  glorious,  and  when  it  closed 
it  left  the  literature  and  eloquence  of  the  country,  which 


BISHOP  SIMPSON.  379 

it  improved  and  adorned,  as  a  lasting  monument.  But 
there  was  a  nobler  monument, — it  was  a  reunited  country 
and  a  powerful  Church,  and  the  epitaph  inscribed  upon  it 
will  be  the  eternal  gratitude  of  the  patriot  and  the  saint. 
To  have  paid  this  tribute  to  thy  memory  is  the  most  hon- 
orable office  to  which  I  could  aspire,  and  to  enjoy  thy 
companionship  hereafter  is  the  sublimest  aspiration  of 
my  heart. 

"Eloquence  is  speaking  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart,  the  only  source  tfrom  which  truth  can  flow,  in  a 
passionate,  persuasive  torrent."  This  definition  of  Julius 
Hare  is  illustrated  by  a  story  told  of  Bishop  Simpson. 
He  preached  some  years  ago  in  the  Memorial  Hall,  Lon- 
don. It  was  one  of  the  bishop's  magnificent,  massive 
sermons.  From  the  platform  to  the  very  door  the  hall 
was  crowded,  the  galleries  were  thronged,  and  the  aisles 
were  a  dense  mass  of  people. 

For  half  an  hour  he  spoke  quietly,  without  gesticulat- 
ing or  uplifting  his  voice.  Then,  describing  the  immacu- 
late Son  of  God  in  the  majestic  beauty  of  his  incarnation, 
he  pictured  the  journey  of  a  God  to  Calvary,  where  he 
bore  the  world's  guilt.  The  bishop  stooped  as  if  over- 
whelmed with  an  immense  burden,  and  rising  to  his  full 
heieht,  he  exclaimed:  "How  far  did  he  carry  our  sins? 
As  far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  hath  he  re- 
moved our  transgressions  from  us."  The  great  audience, 
as  if  touched  by  an  electric  shock,  jumped  to  their  feet, 
stood  for  two  or  three  minutes,  and  then  fell  back  into 
their  seats.  The  famous  professor  of  Elocution,  Brander 
Matthews,  who  taught  half  the  members  of  Parliament 
the  art  of  speech,  was  asked  what  he  thought  of  the  bish- 
op's elocution.  "Elocution?"  said  he,  "he  has  got  the 
Holy  Ghost!" 


3^0  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

This  was  the  greatest  triumph  of  American  sacred 
.  eloquence  ever  heard  in  England,  ever  heard  anywhere. 
It  was  a  great  triumph  when  it  is  remembered  that  Eng- 
lish audiences  are  cold  and  undemonstrative.  It  was  a 
great  triumph  over  prejudice  and  bigotry,  and  to  this 
very  day  old  English  Methodists  tremble  with  emotion 
when  they  speak  of  that  transcendent  sermon  of  the 
American  preacher.  It  was  a  great  triumph ;  for  it  placed 
American  pulpit  oratory  as  on  a  standard  of  gold,  inlaid 
with  emeralds,  before  the  world. 

WILLIAM  JENNINGS  BRYAN. 

It  has  been  well  and  opportunely  said  that  the  dearth 
at  this  moment  of  great  orators  of  a  sterling  stamp  is 
beyond  dispute.  To  that  grand  race  of  statesmen,  ora- 
tors, and  patriots,  who  in  the  years  that  are  past,  in  the 
Congress  of  the  United  States  and  upon  the  stump,  lifted 
the  American  name  triumphantly  before  Europe,  a  crowd 
of  dwarfs  has  succeeded,  who  have  neither  the  heart  to  be 
honest  nor  the  genius  to  be  great.  Nor  is  it  alone  with 
the  splendid  groups  of  which  Hayne,  Clay,  Webster  were 
the  central  figures,  that  the  orators  of  the  present  day 
fail  even  decently  to  compare.  Close  to  these  celebrities 
there  were  seated  a  score  or  more  whose  brilliant  intel- 
lects, prompt  eloquence,  headstrong  purpose,  humor,  still 
kept  fresh  the  brighter  memories  of  Henry,  Otis,  and 
Adams. 

Mr.  Bryan  suddenly  and  abruptly  appeared  before  the 
country  at  the  Demoratic  National  Convention,  in  Chi- 
cago, in  1896.  Before  that  he  was  comparatively  un- 
known; but  his  remarkable  speech  there  made  him  fa- 
mous, and  nominated  him  to  the  Presidency.  Great  in 
the  ordinary  sense,  Mr.  Bryan  can  not  be  called.  In  poli- 


WILLIAM  JENNINGS  BRYAN.  381 

tics  he  has  always  been  a  Democrat.  His  early  education, 
his  family,  and  local  connections,  were  all  of  this  political 
creed.  He  has  been  an  apt  student  of  history,  and  knows 
the  history  of  his  own  magnificent  country  well.  When 
he  entered  Congress,  he  at  once  astonished  his  fellow- 
members  by  the  facility  and  boldness  with  which  he  stated 
his  views  on  public  questions.  He  professes  to  be  the 
champion  of  the  masses  as  against  the  classes.  Alexander 
Hamilton's  profligate  contempt  for  the  understanding 
and  rights  of  the  people  finds  little  favor  with  him,  and 
he  has  no  narrow  and  unrepublican  jealousy  of  foreign 
immigration.  He  is  among  the  warmest  friends  of  Cuba, 
and  organized  a  regiment  for  service  there. 

As  an  orator  he  must  have  read  Lord  Chesterfield's 
advice  to  his  son :  "Take  of  common  sense,  quantum 
sufficit;  throw  obnoxious  thoughts  in  a  new  light;  make 
up  the  whole  with  a  large  quantity  of  correction  and  ele- 
gance of  style;  take  for  granted  that  by  far  the  greatest 
part  of  mankind  do  neither  analyze  nor  search  to  the 
bottom,  they  are  incapable  of  penetration  further  than 
the  surface ;  all  have  senses  to  be  gratified ;  very  few  have 
reason  to  argue  with;  graceful  utterances  please  the  eyes, 
elegant  diction  tickles  the  ears,  but  strong  reason  would 
be  thrown  away  upon  them."  This  receipt  for  speaking 
is  rather  indefinite.  How  much  common  sense  to  take 
to  make  a  good  speech  might  be  difficult  to  determine. 
Plenty  of  style  is  by  no  means  essential  on  the  stump. 
The  gorgeous  orations  of  Burke  would  be  but  failures 
there;  the  beauty  and  classic  painting  of  Sumner  would 
not  be  appreciated.  What  the  masses  want  is  the  strong, 
robust,  healthy  sentiment  spoken  earnestly,  courageously, 
and  believingly. 

I  heard  Mr.  Bryan  in  the  Armory  in  Cleveland.    When 


382  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

he  rose  to  speak  he  was  received  with  repeated  bursts  of 
rapturous  cheering,  the  vast  audience  rising  to  their  feet, 
and  waving  hats  and  handkerchiefs.  He  had  only  spoken 
a  few  minutes  when  his  style  glowed  with  an  earnestness 
of  admiration.  His  diction  is  copious  and  fluent;  his 
voice  is  sonorous  and  full,  and  capable  of  adapting  into- 
nations to  every  emotion;  while  he  indulges  in  attitudes 
and  actions  which  indicate  that  he  has  been  a  careful  stu- 
dent of  gesture.  He  warmed  apace,  and  then  an  em- 
bodied storm  thundered  and  lightened  upon  the  platform. 
As  he  painted  the  sufferings  of  the  poor,  the  majestic  brow 
grew  black  with  scorn  and  defiance ;  wrathful  glances  shot 
from  the  eye ;  the  action  became  inconceivably  vehement, 
and  the  words  rapid  as  a  mountain  stream,  but  without 
losing  aught  of  their  singular  distinctness  and  beauty. 
At  these  times  the  orator  poured  forth  a  whole  torrent  of 
denunciatory  epithets,  which,  like  a  stream  of  fire,  scathed 
and  burned  up  the  ground  over  which  it  was  rolled. 

Compare  him  with  Mr.  McKinley.  They  are  in  many 
respects  the  very  opposite  of  each  other,  and  yet  they  are 
both  honest  in  their  opinions.  Bryan  has  attitudes,  is 
statuesque,  and  all  his  speeches  show  that  he  has  studied 
how  to  capture  the  eye.  McKinley  cares  nothing  for 
attitudes,  addresses  the  ear,  and  is  anxious  to  inform,  to 
convince  the  understanding.  Bryan's  mission  is  one  of 
reconstruction  of  the  old,  and  upheaval;  McKinley's 
mission  is  to  renovate  and  to  restore  the  lost  prosperity. 
Bryan  is  the  representative  of  a  force  that  would  sweep 
away  with  a  whirlwind's  power  customs  and  laws  which 
for  twelve  centuries  have  been  the  great  factors  in  the 
civilization  of  the  world;  McKinley  is  the  representative 
of  a  power  which  would  put  something  good  in  the  place 
offered.  Bryan  stands  for  the  present,  and  cries  aloud  for 


WILLIAM  JENNINGS  BRYAN.  383 

justice;  McKinley  has  a  more  immediate  respect  for  the 
future,  has  faith  in  a  silent  and  powerful  influence  which 
must  benefit  mankind.  Bryan  is  the  harbinger  of  the 
tempest;  McKinley  is  the  harbinger  of  calm,  deep,  and 
enduring  peace,  which  will  open  on  the  world  when  the 
storm  and  darkness  shall  have  passed  away. 

To  return  to  Mr.  Bryan  as  an  orator.  He  combines 
fare  talents,  a  good  voice  of  powerful  compass,  a  clear 
and  distinct  intonation.  When  he  speaks  you  are  sure  to 
catch  every  word,  and  even  in  his  most  impassioned  mo- 
ments his  articulation  is  distinct.  He  never  recalls  a  word, 
nor  seems  at  a  loss,  and  when  he  warms  up  with  his  sub- 
ject his  eye  kindles  with  fire.  In  sarcasm  he  is  most  cut- 
ting, but  never  coarse  or  vulgar.  I  have  heard  most  of 
the  recent  public  speakers  of  the  country,  but  I  question 
much  if  any  of  them  possess  more  of  the  essential  qualities 
of  a  stump  orator  than  Mr.  Bryan.  Mr.  Bourke  Cockran 
has  more  originality,  Ingersoll  a  more  pictorial  style, 
Schurz  is  more  accomplished  in  facts  and  arguments, 
Cannon  more  cutting  in  sarcasm, — but  where  a  bold  and 
independent  execution  is  demanded  for  an  out-door 
crowd,  Bryan  surpasses  them  all.  It  has  been  charged 
that  he  repeated  the  same  speech.  My  son,  Charles  M. 
Pepper,  who,  as  representative  of  the  New  York  Herald, 
traveled  with  him  for  four  months,  and  heard  him  three 
and  six  times  daily,  says  that  there  was  no  repetition  of 
his  speeches. 

Wherever  he  is  best  known,  Mr.  Bryan  is  held  in  high 
esteem.  I  spoke  at  Ewing,  a  pleasant  college  town  in 
Southern  Illinois,  and  a  strongly  Democratic  place.  It 
was  the  home  of  Mr.  Bryan.  The  hall  was  crowded,  and 
for  fifteen  minutes  after  I  began  to  speak  there  was  re- 
spectful attention;  then  the  interruption  became  so  con- 


384  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

stant  that  I  changed  my  position  to  the  center  of  the 
building.  I  referred  to  Mr.  Bryan's  oratory,  and  the  audi- 
ence cheered.  It  had  the  same  effect  as  when  Demos- 
thenes pronounced  "Marathon"  to  the  noisy  Greeks. 
Then  I  referred  to  McKinley's  history,  his  original  pov- 
erty, school-teaching,  and  how  like  their  own  favorite,  he 
surmounted  difficulties.  This  reference  was  greeted  with 
cheers.  The  next  morning  I  attended  the  college  prayer- 
meeting.  The  leader,  in  his  prayer,  referred  to  my  pres- 
ence, and  prayed  that  God  would  bless  the  stranger  who 
came  amongst  them  to  preach  righteousness  to  a  sinful 
and  perverse  generation.  I  addressed  the  students  in  the 
college  upon  the  "Pains  and  Penalties  of  Public  Life,"  and 
the  terrorism  of  slander  through  which  candidates  for 
office  must  pass,  and  the  talk  was  rapturously  received. 
I  thanked  them,  and  only  regretted  they  did  not  give  some 
of  their  cheers  the  preceding  evening.  In  conversation 
with  many  of  them,  I  found  that  they  confidently  believed 
that  Mr.  Bryan  would  be  elected.  I  replied  that  no  orator 
had  ever  been  selected  for  that  high  office;  that  Clay — 
the  ash  and  hickory  groves  of  old  Kentucky  are  yet  vocal 
with  his  eloquence — tried  it,  and  failed.  It  is  said  that 
Clay  was  sick  when  the  news  of  the  Democratic  nomi- 
nation reached  him;  but  raising  his  head  from  his  pillow 
he  asked,  "Who  is  nominated?"  "Frank  Pierce,"  he  was 
told.  "Who  is  he?"  exclaimed  the  dying  statesman.  "My 
God,  we  are  beat !"  So  Webster,  that  powerful  and  mag- 
nificent man,  although  worshiped  by  his  party,  could  not 
attain  to  the  Presidency. 


WILLIAM  E.  GLADSTONE. 


Chapter  XXV. 

MR.  GLADSTONE  AS  AN  ORATOR,  STATESMAN, 
PHILANTHROPIST,  CHRISTIAN. 

IF  we  were  asked  who  is  the  greatest  Englishman  of 
the  century  we  would  answer,  William  E.  Gladstone. 
While  to  the  great  soldiers  and  inventors  of  the  time  we 
render  all  honor,  and  to  the  great  scientists  the  respect 
which  their  profound  discoveries  have  demanded,  we  can 
find  no  other  man  so  largely  possessed  of  those  qualities 
that  to  our  minds  constitute  true  greatness  than  Eng- 
land's "Grand  Old  Man."  If  the  students  of  true  great- 
ness be  in  search  of  one  upon  whom  their  calmest  judg- 
ment will  teach  them  to  dwell  with  pleasure,  they  will  not 
find  a  purer  or  more  heroic  personage  than  the  great 
Englishman,  who  has  been  identified  with  the  great  re- 
forms of  his  country  for  the  last  half  a  century.  The  mem- 
ories of  such  illustrious  men  are  the  true  treasures  of  a 
nation.  The  statesman  deserves  the  hero's  death  and  the 
martyr's  monument.  They  are  the  real  tutors  of  gener- 
ous youth,  and  in  lands  where  such  memories  are  not 
found,  there  faith  can  never  dwell.  Rottenness  hath  eaten 
into  the  core  of  those  nations,  and  as  sure  as  the  rootless 
tree  perishes,  they  will  fall,  and  as  they  fall,  all  reverence 
and  love  fall  forever! 

There  has  not  been  a  political  movement  in  England, 
I  might  say  in  the  world,  with  which  Mr.  Gladstone's 
name  has  not  been  identified.  I  know  he  has  been 
charged  with  changing  his  principles;  but,  to  his  honor 
be  it  said,  all  his  changes  have  been  upward  and  universal. 
25  385 


386  UNDER   THREE   FLAGS. 

His  advocacy  of  the  cause  of  oppressed  peoples  is  the  most 
glorious  to  be  found  in  the  annals  of  the  world.  His  last 
days  were  a  sublime  close  to  a  rare  and  wonderful  life ! 

His  enemies  have  doubted  many  things  of  Gladstone. 
They  have  doubted  whether  he  had  any  principle;  they 
have  doubted  whether  he  had  any  real  party  attachment; 
they  have  doubted  whether  he  had  any  drift  beyond  that 
of  the  merest  demagogue, — but  they  have  never  doubted 
that  he  had  no  real  sympathy  with  the  masses ;  they  have 
never  doubted  that  he  did  not  know  the  state  of  the  polit- 
ical world,  an  eye  or  a  nose  for  calculating  political  prob- 
abilities and  forming  plans,  so  as  to  follow  closely  the 
popular  demands  of  the  hour.  He  belongs  to  the  list  of 
illustrious  men  to  whose  name  panegyric  would  be  ful- 
some. No  one  thought  of  panegyrzing  Alexander  the 
Great,  Napoleon,  Washington!  Gladstone  was  emphat- 
ically the  greatest  man  of  the  century.  He  justly  merited 
his  rival's  (Disraeli's)  definition  of  greatness :  "The  great 
man  is  one  who  affects  his  generation,  whether  he  be  a 
scholar  in  his  cloister  agitating  reforms,  or  a  monarch 
crossing  the  Granicus  and  giving  a  new  character  to  the 
pagan  world."  A  great  orator  is  of  no  use  unless  he  is 
also  a  great  man.  Nay,  the  most  eloquent  orator  can 
never  become  great  if  deficient  in  moral  power.  This  was 
the  secret  of  his  power  as  a  speaker — he  impressed  all 
who  heard  him  with  his  absolute  sincerity.  He  held  his 
integrity  of  character  higher  than  the  exigencies  of  party. 
In  a  period  of  war  excitement,  he  had  the  courage  to  say 
that  England's  greatest  interest  was  in  peace.  "Paint  me 
as  I  am,"  said  a  great  Englishman  to  the  artist,  "or  paint 
me  not  at  all."  Gladstone  was  one  of  the  few  public  men 
who  held  that  a  politician's  opinions  should  be  founded 
alone  on  principle. 


WILLIAM  E.    GLADSTONE.  387 

Gladstone's  oratory  was  powerfully  helped  by  his  style, 
which  changed  with  the  character  of  his  subjects.  His 
Home  Rule  speeches  were  delivered  with  a  musical  ca- 
dence and  recitative,  a  style  in  which,  Coleridge  has  said, 
"every  noble  and  beautiful  thought  seeks  expression!" 
One  of  his  severest  critics  wrote  of  him :  "It  was  not  until 
he  had  his  victim  in  the  deadly  grip  of  his  argument  that 
the  stately  and  melodious  swing  of  his  elocution  left  him, 
and  then  in  bursts  of  vehement  rhetoric  his  words  sped 
from  him  in  the  natural  language  of  passion." 

Gladstone's  voice,  with  the  exception  of  O'Connell's, 
was  the  most  magnificent  ever  heard  in  Parliament — it 
rang  like  a  trumpet  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  at  the  close 
it  was  as  musical  as  the  song  of  birds!  I  thought  as  I 
heard  him  several  times  of  what  the  farmer  said  of  him, 
"He  could  talk  a  hen  off  her  nest."  His  voice  had  an  ex- 
traordinary variety  of  intonations.  Every  line  was  made 
instinct  with  life  by  a  change  of  tone.  The  hearer  was 
first  dazed,  then  charmed  by  a  vast  variety  of  solemn  and 
swelling  sounds.  The  Grand  Old  Man  was  never  more 
brilliant  or  impassioned,  and  never  held  an  audience  in 
greater  admiration  by  his  wonderful  power,  than  during 
the  Home  Rule  debates.  He  reached  the  lofty  level  of 
his  own  description  in  his  book  on  Homer,  where  he  de- 
scribes oratory  as  being  "the  speaker's  power  to  receive 
from  his  audience  in  a  vapor  what  he  pours  back  upon 
them  in  a  flood."  Whatever  oratory  needs  to  make  it 
pungent  and  attractive,  Gladstone  possessed — the  living 
picture,  the  novelty  of  color,  the  graphic  terseness,  the 
sting  of  irony,  the  power  of  climax.  But  his  best  orations 
possess  more  than  this — the  body  and  substance  of  all 
natural  power,  the  talent  of  giving  back  to  your  audience 
their  own  thoughts  and  feelings  and  beliefs  in  a  form  that 


388  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

fixes  them  ever  deeper  in  their  own  minds.  He  did  not 
indulge,  like  Disraeli,  in  "jewely  hemorrhage  of  words," 
never  using  such  words  as  his  rival  puts  in  the  mouth  of 
one  of  his  characters:  "I  never  smoke/'  says  one  of  his 
heroes,  to  the  father  of  the  young  lady  he  is  wooing; 
"tobacco  is  the  tomb  of  love." 

Gladstone  is  prodigal  of  his  gestures.  They  are  as 
varied  as  his  themes.  When  he  commences,  his  table  is 
carefully  arranged,  his  notes  being  usually  placed  in  the 
center.  As  he  becomes  animated  he  leans  forward  and 
shakes  his  hand  in  the  direction  of  his  opponents.  If  any 
one  objects,  he  then  puts  both  his  hands  behind  his  ears 
to  catch  the  words.  If  he  hesitates  for  a  word,  he  will 
sweep  his  left  hand  through  his  hair.  When  he  has  spoken 
an  hour,  he  pauses,  and  takes  some  stimulant  from  a  small 
bottle  which  Mrs.  Gladstone  has  carefully  prepared — a 
yellowish  fluid.  His  gestures  frequently  become  violent. 
Beaconsfield  once  said  of  him,  that  he  was  glad  that  a 
table  was  between  him  and  Mr.  Gladstone  during  the 
speech  to  which  they  had  just  listened  with  mingled  ad- 
miration and  terror. 

The  great  deficiency  in  Gladstone's  oratory  is  a  lack 
of  humor.  But  although  he  never  tells  a  witty  incident, 
he  enjoys  one.  While  awaiting  his  arrival  in  Parliament, 
I  mentioned  this  defect  to  one  of  his  enthusiastic  followers. 
"Yes,  that  is  true,"  he  replied;  "but  he  laughs  heartily 
when  one  is  told.  For  instance,  an  Irish  physician,  the 
first  of  his  profession  in  Dublin,  and  a  Parnellite,  upon 
arriving  in  London  recently,  was  asked  the  question, 
'Would  you  like  to  live  under  a  Home  Rule  Government?' 
'I  will  answer  your  question,'  said  the  eminent  physician, 
'by  this  story.  Recently  I  was  called  to  the  bedside  of  a 
dying  patient.  One  of  his  friends  said,  "John,  are  you  not 


WILLIAM  E.    GLADSTONE.  389 

afraid  to  die?"  "No,  I  am  not."  "What,  John,"  said 
another,  "are  you  aware  that  you  are  going  to  leave  us, 
and  where  you  are  going  to?"  "Yes,  I  am  going  to  leave 
you,"  said  the  sick  man.  "John,  are  you  not  afraid  to  face 
the  King  of  Terrors?"  asked  a  third,  his  brother-in-law. 
"No ;  for  I  have  lived  thirty-five  years  with  the  Queen  of 
Terrors,  your  sister,"  replied  John.  'Now/  said  the  Dub- 
lin doctor,  'if  I  have  lived  under  the  English  Government 
for  so  many  years,  I  am  prepared  to  take  my  chances 
under  a  Home  Rule  Government.'  ' 

One  of  Mr.  Gladstone's  friendly  English  critics  says 
there  are  three  things  to  be  considered  in  estimating  his 
character  as  a  statesman:  First,  he  is  a  Lancashire  man. 
It  was  in  Lancashire  he  learned  that  profound  appreci- 
ation of  the  right  and  might  of  capital,  without  which  no 
creative  financier  can  be  made.  It  was  the  blood  of  the 
Lancashire  spinner  in  Sir  Robert  Peel,  the  first  great 
modern  reformer  of  English  finances.  The  same  feeling 
was  strong  in  Gladstone — he  mused  on  the  money  market, 
pondered  on  the  low  rate  of  interest,  which  might  affect 
the  utility  of  the  Government.  He  did  his  work  in  the- 
Treasury,  not  as  a  matter  of  business,  but  as  a  matter  of 
love.  As  a  novelist's  mind  swarms  with  expedients  for 
bringing  out  the  points  of  his  favorite  characters,  Mr. 
Gladstone's  mind  swarmed  with  financial  ideas,  small  and 
great. 

The  next  fundamental  fact  in  estimating  his  character 
is  his  Oxford  training.  It  widened  the  scope  of  his  genius. 
In  his  "Church  Principles,  Considered  in  their  Results," 
perhaps  the  most  difficult  book  in  the  English  language,* 
can  be  seen  the  traces  of  Gladstone's  university  life,  the 
Oxford  before  the  movement  of  1833;  the  Oxford  which 
made  the  Aristotelian  dogma,  that  "virtue  is  the  half-way 


390  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

house  between  two  opposite  vices,"  its  ethical  rule;  the 
Oxford  which  had  not  yet  begun  to  dig  after  the  roots  of 
principle,  tended  his  mind  to  consequences  rather  than  to 
first  principles.  This  habit,  while  it  secured  for  him  a 
practical  tone,  denied  him  the  highest  triumphs  of  oratory. 
Bright  excelled  him  as  a  mere  orator,  because  Bright  re- 
ceived his  inspiration  from  the  deepest  fountains  of  human 
passion;  Gladstone  did  not  sink  his  rhetoric  wells  deep. 

The  Peelite  education  of  Mr.  Gladstone  was  the  third 
fundamental  fact  in  making  him  what  he  was.  Sir  Robert 
Peel's  influence  tended  to  tame  the  wild  craving  in  Glad- 
stone's youth.  It  made  him  look  at  things  with  the  eyes 
of  a  prudent,  cautious,  country  gentleman.  Peel's  influ- 
ence again  fostered  the  pacific  and  commercial  side  of 
Mr.  Gladstone's  imagination.  It  strengthened  the  ad- 
ministrative power  of  his  mind,  balanced  it  with  whatever 
of  caution  and  judgment  it  had.  His  championship  of 
Italy  has  made  that  country  his  friend  forever.  An  Eng- 
lish gentleman  was  taken  violently  sick  in  a  remote  part 
of  Sicily.  He  asked  his  physician  after  his  recovery, 
"What  is  the  fee  and  expenses?"  "None,"  answered  the 
doctor,  pulling  out  a  photograph  from  his  breast  of  the 
Grand  Old  Man.  "He  paid  it  all." 

Gladstone  was  the  last  of  the  great  orators  of  England. 
As  an  orator  he  has  been  surpassed,  but  as  a  debater 
never.  The  Parliament,  the  bar,  and  the  pulpit  all  shrank 
from  the  eloquence  and  power  of  this  extraordinary  man. 
His  logic  was  always  equal  to  his  eloquence,  and  his  elo- 
quence equal  to  his  logic.  In  him  there  was  no  affected 
warmth ;  none  of  that  superfluous  zeal  which  speaks  from 
the  lips  and  never  touches  the  heart;  none  of  that  stu- 
pendous energy  which  argues  only  for  effect.  But  its 
chief  charm  was  that  it  was  at  once  enriched  and  invigo- 


WILLIAM  E.    GLADSTONE.  391 

rated  by  the  noblest  imagination  and  decorations.  It  was 
ornamented;  but  its  force  was  no  more  sacrificed  to  its 
ornament  than  the  solid  steel  of  the  Greek  helmet  to  its 
plumage  and  sculptures.  Mr.  Gladstone's  career  will  be 
differently  estimated  by  a  variety  of  critics ;  but  none  will 
deny  that  he  was  the  first  great  Englishman  in  a  hundred 
years  who  applied  to  the  administration  of  civil  govern- 
ment the  immortal  principles  of  the  New  Testament. 


Chapter  XXVI. 

IN   THE    BRITISH    PARLIAMENT— JOHN    BRIGHT, 

CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL,  JOSEPH 

CHAMBERLAIN,  AND  OTHERS. 

THERE  are  many  ways  of  securing  admission  to  Parlia- 
ment: By  bribing  a  policeman;  by  having  a  vote 
taken — this  requires  about  ten  days,  and  Americans  sel- 
dom tarry  long  enough  for  this  method ;  and  by  the  per- 
sonal friendship  of  one  of  the  members.  The  latter  was 
the  plan  by  which  I  enjoyed  the  privilege  for  several 
nights. 

The  Parliament  buildings  are  built  in  an  oblong  form, 
and  they  can  entertain  about  five  hundred  members.  The 
number  of  members  is  six  hundred,  so  the  balance  have  to 
find  room  in  the  galleries  allotted  to  visitors.  This  House 
of  Parliament  is  not  the  old  historic  place  where  Chatham 
thundered;  where  Pitt  and  Fox,  the  great  rivals,  fought 
out  their  political  duels;  where  Edmund  Burke  poured 
forth  his  splendid  speeches;  where  O'Connell  pleaded  for 
the  rights  of  Ireland;  and  where  blushed  the  youthful 
chivalry  of  Raleigh.  There  were  no  spells  to  awaken  the 
profound  emotions  of  the  heart,  no  mighty  memories  to 
thrill  the  soul ;  yet  here  was  the  seat  of  that  great  Empire, 
vaster  than  the  Roman  legions  covered,  stretching  from 
the  Bay  of  Bengal  to  the  Himalaya  Mountains,  admin- 
istering laws  to  a  population  of  over  three  hundred  mill- 
ions, including  some  of  the  finest  races  of  men  in  the 
world.  The  House  of  Commons  is  now  more  of  a  repre- 
sentative body  than  it  was  in  the  past.  A  few  years  ago 

392 


IN  THE  BRITISH  PARLIAMENT.  393 

a  stranger  visiting  it  and  asking,  "Who  is  that  man?" 
would  have  been  told  he  was  a  marquis,  and  that 
there  were  several  of  them;  of  another  he  would  be  told 
he  was  a  viscount,  and  that  there  were  several  of  them 
also;  of  others  he  would  be  told  that  they  were  earls  or 
lords,  and  that  there  were  many  more  of  them  in  the 
House;  that  there  were,  in  fact,  fifty  lords  and  seventy 
baronets, — altogether,  three  hundred  persons  connected 
with  the  peerage.  The  House  of  Commons,  although 
still  largely  dominated  by  the  aristocracy,  is  now  more  a 
reflex  of  the  people.  The  vice  of  its  constitution  was  like 
the  deformity  of  the  poet  Pope,  who  was  constantly  ex- 
claiming, "God  mend  me!"  and  who  was  on  one  occa- 
sion heard  to  say  to  himself,  "God  mend  you,  you  little 
deformity?  It  would  be  much  easier  to  make  a  new  one 
altogether !" 

Englishmen  have  looked  to  their  Parliament  for  ages 
with  passionate  reverence  and  affection.  What  an  excit- 
ing picture  it  presents  to  an  American  who  views  it  for 
the  first  time,  though  not  the  same  where  Burke  took  his 
stand  by  the  immortal  rebel,  George  Washington,  and 
vindicated  the  American  cause  in  words  of  eloquence 
which  will  endure  forever;  not  the  historic  place  where 
Lord  Chatham  stood  before  American  independence  was 
proclaimed,  and  enunciated  the  grandest  speech  that  ever 
shook  the  walls  of  that  edifice  with  its  eloquence,  in  the 
memorable  words,  "My  Lords,  America  has  revolted, 
and  I  rejoice  at  it !" 

Americans,  and,  indeed,  all  foreigners  when  they  vis- 
ited Parliament  formerly,  inquired  at  once  for  Gladstone. 
There  he  sat,  straight  as  an  ash,  with  splendid  brown  eyes, 
hands  clasped,  limbs  stretched  out  before  him,  and  having 
the  appearance  of  a  man  asleep ;  but  he  was  far  from  being 


394  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

asleep.  Now  and  then  the  eyes  opened  widely,  and  he 
rose  to  reply  to  one  of  his  legion  of  encores.  As  he  talked, 
all  the  members  began  to  take  their  seats,  and  there  was 
something  grand  as  he  proceeded,  step  by  step,  to  over- 
whelm his  antagonist.  There  were  no  noisy,  gorgeous 
fireworks  of  a  mere  rhetorician ;  but  solid,  thorough,  wide 
research  and  resistless  logic.  A  voice  soft  and  gentle  or 
overwhelming,  now  it  was  like  the  breathing  of  a  flute, 
now  like  the  hurricane  that  shakes  the  pine-trees  of  a  con- 
tinent; an  eye  like  Mars  or  Apollo,  the  finest  ever  set  in 
a  human  head;  magnificent  gestures,  when  every  part  of 
his  body  was  in  motion,  his  eyes,  his  feet,  his  hands,  each 
a  language  in  themselves.  And  as  to  the  effects  of  his 
speech — he  not  only  killed  his  enemies,  but  scalped  them ! 
Next  to  Gladstone  was  John  Bright.  He  had  a  com- 
manding figure,  a  massive  presence,  and  a  voice  of  mar- 
velous compass.  His  voice  had  a  wonderful  musical 
quality,  and  it  was  like  listening  to  a  song  to  hear  him 
speak.  His  slightest  tones  could  be  heard  distinctly,  and 
when  he  raised  his  voice  to  its  highest  notes,  it  filled  the 
whole  house.  His  gestures  were  few  and  simple.  Of  all 
British  reformers,  he  stood  foremost;  not  because  he  was 
the  profoundest  thinker,  but  because  his  sympathies  were 
ever  with  the  masses.  They  not  only  were  with  the  Eng- 
lish and  the  Irish,  but  they  traveled  across  the  winds  and 
the  waves  of  the  Atlantic!  During  our  Civil  War  he 
uttered  those  brave  and  hopeful  words:  "I  see  one  vast 
confederation,  stretching  from  the  frozen  North  to  the 
glowing  South  in  unbroken  line  to  the  Gulf,  from  the  wild 
billows  of  the  Atlantic  westward  to  the  calmer  waters  of 
the  Pacific  main,  and  I  see  one  people  and  one  language 
and  one  faith,  and  all  over  that  wide  continent  the  home 
of  freedom  and  a  refuge  for  the  oppressed  of  every  clime." 


CHARLES  STEWART  PARNELL. 


IN   THE  BRITISH  PARLIAMENT.  395 

But  the  man  above  all  others  who  attracted  Ameri- 
cans, and,,  indeed,  all  visitors,  was  Parnell,  the  leader  of 
the  Irish  Home  Rule  party.  As  a  political  agitator  and 
statesman,  men  of  all  nations  have  formed  various  esti- 
mates; but  none  will  deny  that  he  was  the  first  great 
Irishman  who  compelled  John  Bull  to  pay  heed  to  the 
grievances  of  the  Irish.  Such  judges  of  men  as  Glad- 
stone, Morley,  and  Justin  McCarthy  have  assigned  him 
a  conspicuous  place  in  British  history.  He  had  to  con- 
tend with  more  formidable  difficulties  than  any  previous 
Irish  leader.  He  was  charged  with  all  manner  of  crime, 
that  he  was  dismembering  the  British  Empire.  His  life 
was  frequently  so  much  in  peril  from  the  mob  when  he 
left  Parliament  that  he  was  compelled  to  reach  his  hotel 
through  lanes  and  alleys.  A  few  years  afterwards,  so 
great  was  his  popularity,  he  had  to  take  the  same  route 
to  escape  the  ovations  of  the  multitudes. 

In  stature,  Parnell  was  slender,  and  he  looked,  when  I 
first  saw  him,  before  his  head  was  bowed,  like  a  Calvinist 
professor ;  but  his  eye,  when  aroused,  flashed  like  a  spark- 
ling diamond.  He  commenced  his  speech  in  a  halting, 
hesitating  way,  frequently  using  the  English  "hems  and 
haws,"  "ye  know,"  etc. ;  but  in  the  very  tempest  of  his 
passion  he  was  measured  and  self-possessed  in  his  de- 
livery, and,  to  outward  appearance,  cold  and  calm,  yet  his 
speech  was  elaborately  bitter  and  studiously  hostile  to  the 
English  government  of  Ireland.  It  was  delivered  without 
fire ;  it  betrayed  no  inward  emotion ;  it  had  all  the  external 
coldness  of  snow ;  but  inwardly  it  had  all  the  fire  of  a 
smoldering  volcano;  it  was  everywhere  inspired  with  a 
vein  of  common  sense  and  logic.  It  was  no  wonder  that 
Gladstone  said  of  him,  "Parnell  is  the  only  man  who 
knows  what  to  say,  and  when  he  has  said  it,  stops." 


396  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

The  first  time  I  met  him  was  at  Toledo,  Ohio.  For 
years  I  had  been  endeavoring  to  set  before  the  American 
people  the  true  nature  of  Ireland's  complaints.  Most  of 
them  believed  that  all  the  Irish  agitators  and  revolution- 
ists were  Catholics,  and  that  Ireland's  hostility  to  Eng- 
land arose  from  that  country  being  a  Protestant  nation. 
This  was  the  popular  belief,  but  it  was  not  true.  The  Irish 
Revolution,  like  that  of  the  Volunteers  in  1782,  when  one 
hundred  thousand  seized  their  guns  and  demanded  inde- 
pendence, was  exclusively  Protestant.  The  Roman  Cath- 
olics then  could  not  own  a  gun.  So  it  was  in  the  rebel- 
lion of  1798;  the  organizers  and  all  the  principal  men 
were  Protestants.  Parnell  was  a  member  of  the  Church 
of  England,  an  Oxford  graduate,  the  grandson  of  Com- 
modore Stewart,  of  the  American  navy,  and  the  great- 
grandson  of  Sir  John  Henry  Parnell,  the  member  of  the 
Irish  Parliament  who  sent  cheers  to  Washington.  His 
accession  to  the  Irish  cause  was  equal  to  a  hundred  thou- 
sand men. 

When  Mr.  Parnell  closed  his  speech  and  retired  to  his 
seat,  the  cheers  of  the  immense  crowd  increased  until  the 
roof  rang  with  their  acclaims,  which  Irishmen  alone  can 
raise  when  their  hearts  are  in  their  voices  and  every  throat 
pours  out  a  soul  in  every  sound.  The  speech  at  Toledo 
was  devoid  of  all  rhetorical  or  oratorical  ability;  but  the 
evident  sincerity,  the  practical  good  sense  and  honesty 
captivated  the  Americans.  The  hall  was  packed.  I  was 
late  in  arriving;  but  some  of  the  ushers,  recognizing  me, 
took  me  immediately  to  the  platform.  General  Stead- 
man,  the  old  warrior  of  Chickamauga,  presided.  After 
Mr.  Parnell  finished,  I  was  called  upon  to  speak,  and  find- 
ing that  it  would  be  useless  to  refuse,  made  a  short  speech. 
A  Rev.  Mr.  O'Brien,  a  gifted  and  benevolent  priest  in 


IN  THE  BRITISH  PARLIAMENT.  397 

the  audience,  had  been  called  upon,  and  putting  down 
$500  for  the  Irish  fund,  remarked,  "I  am  glad  to  see  here 
the  'Uncrowned  King  of  Ireland.' '  I  opened  my  speech 
by  saying  that  the  time  when  God  anointed  kings  had 
passed  away  forever;  that  the  only  king  in  this  country 
was  the  sweat  that  lay  upon  the  blistered  brow  of  labor. 
At  these  words  a  cheer  went  up  from  the  crowd.  I  then 
told  an  incident  that  had  happened  in  Ireland,  and  a 
Presbyterian  clergyman's  remarks  upon  it.  It  was  a  case 
of  eviction,  and  when  the  Christian  gentleman  saw  the 
unroofed  houses,  the  furhiture  of  the  occupants  thrown 
out  and  smashed,  the  gables  and  walls  standing  like  tomb- 
stones in  a  graveyard,  the  poor  people  huddling  together 
in  the  distance,  "Will  God,"  said  he,  "hold  guiltless  the 
men  who,  with  worse  than  beast's  cruelty,  can  thus  traffic 
in  the  body  and  souls  of  their  fellow-men?  Under  the 
spring  of  the  tiger  the  struggle  for  life  would  be  but 
momentary ;  but  here  is  life  prolonged  that  existence  may 
be  embittered,  and  men,  women,  and  children,  under  the 
visitings  of  hunger  and  cold  wooing  death,  but  death 
fleeing  from  them.  The  effect  of  a  believed  gospel  is  this, 
'I  was  an-hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  meat;  I  was  thirsty, 
and  ye  gave  me  to  drink;  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took 
me  in;  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me.'  The  effect  of  Irish 
landlordism  is,  'I  was  an-hungered,  and  ye  let  me  die;  I 
was  a  brother,  and  ye  turned  me  out;  clothed,  and  ye 
stripped  me;  sick,  and  ye  cast  me  into  the  ditches  and 
the  miserable  outhouses  which  were  beneath  the  notice  of 
the  demolishing  Crown-bar  Brigade.' '  I  proceeded  to 
give  a  history  of  Parnell,  saying  that  in  his  veins  flowed 
the  blood  of  Irish  and  American  heroes;  that  his  grand- 
father on  his  mother's  side  was  the  gallant  sailor,  Com- 
modore Stewart,  the  heroic  commander  of  old  Ironsides; 


398  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

that  his  great-grandfather  on  the  paternal  side  was  the 
incorruptible  John  Henry  Parnell,  whom  British  gold 
could  not  buy  to  betray  his  country;  and  that  Americans 
ought  to  love  the  name  of  Parnell,  for  this  gentle- 
man, when  Franklin  appeared  at  the  bar  of  the  Irish 
House  of  Commons  with  a  message  of  sympathy,  rose 
and  said,  "This  is  Benjamin  Franklin;  let  Ireland  rise  up 
through  her  Parliament  and  give  three  cheers  for  Wash- 
ington." The  crowd  became  tumultuous  in  their  ap- 
plause when  I  told  this  incident.  In  closing,  I  turned 
around  and  saluted  Charles  Stewart  Parnell,  not  as  the 
Uncrowned  King,  but  as  the  first  citizen  and  President 
of  the  Irish  Republic.  Amid  the  cheers  that  followed, 
Parnell,  the  'man  of  ice,'  jumped  up  and  threw  his  arms 
around  me,  saying,  "I  wish  to  God  you  were  in  Ireland, 
although  I  fear  your  strong  republicanism  would  get  us 
all  into  prison!" 

In  the  famous  trial  which  took  place  in  London,  this 
speech  was  read  by  Sir  Richard  Webster,  the  Attorney- 
General  of  England,  and  quoted  as  evidence  against  Par- 
nell. When  he  was  asked  if  he  had  known  me,  his  an- 
swer was:  "Yes;  Mr.  Pepper  is  an  excellent  Christian 
gentleman." 

The  next  day  after  the  great  meeting  in  Toledo,  I  trav- 
eled for  several  hours  with  Mr.  Parnell,  and  gave  him 
some  copies  of  the  Chicago  Tribune,  which  was  then  a 
most  powerful  and  influential  advocate  of  the  Irish.  Mr. 
Joseph  Medill  told  me  afterwards  that  he  was  convinced, 
after  an  hour's  talk  with  the  Irish  leader,  that  he  was  the 
most  remarkable  man  he  had  ever  met,  and  that  his 
method  for  the  relief  of  the  Irish  tenants  was  the  most 
practical  of  any  that  had  been  presented  to  his  knowledge. 
The  paper  which  Mr.  Medill  founded,  and  of  which  he  is 


IN  THE  BRITISH  PARLIAMENT.  399 

•still  the  proprietor,  has  never  failed  in  the  defense  of  the 
Home  Rule  cause.  Mr.  Medill  still  lives,  in  the  enjoyment 
of  a  ripe  and  honored  age. 

Mr.  Parnell's  tour  through  the  United  States  was  an 
ovation.  Congress  opened  its  doors  for  him  to  state  the 
cause  of  Ireland,  an  honor  never  before  acceded  to  a  for- 
eigner except  Lafayette. 

A  Toledo  paper,  in  reporting  the  meeting,  thus  refers 
to  my  address:  "The  Rev.  G.  W.  Pepper,  a  very  able 
Methodist  minister,  of  Bellevue,  was  called  out  and  spoke 
most  eloquently.  'Before  twenty  years  have  passed/  he 
said,  'the  seed  which  is  sown  here  to-night  by  Mr.  Par- 
nell will  fructify  into  a  golden  harvest.  Already  I  see 
the  faint  flush  of  the  morning  lighting  into  glorious  day. 
The  Irish  people  are  more  united  than  ever  before.'  He 
was  'glad  to  be  present  at  this  meeting;  but  after  all  that 
had  been  said,  it  would  be  an  insult  to  longer  detain  the 
magnificent  audience.'  There  were  cries  of  'Go  on !  go 
on !'  and  the  speaker  continued  a  few  minutes  longer,  and 
was  frequently  interrupted .  by  rapturous  applause.  In 
closing,  he  said  that  Mr.  Parnell  would  not  live  to  be  an 
Uncrowned  King,  but  the  first  President  of  a  republic/ ' 

The  Irish  patriot  is  dead.  His  last  days  were  clouded 
and  sad.  Parnell  was  a  patriot;  he  was  no  mere  street 
demagogue.  He  might  have  sold  his  country  for  place 
and  power;  he  might  have  flaunted  proudly  in  the  court 
of  Queen  Victoria  and  died  a  wealthy  baronet.  He  loved 
Ireland  as  the  Roman  loved  the  City  of  the  Seven  Hills, 
the  Athenian  the  City  of  the  Violet  Crown.  He  lived  a 
patriot  and  died  a  martyr !  He  had  his  failings — who  has 
not?  Calvin  was  a  great  theologian,  but  he  listened  with- 
out protest  to  the  cries  of  Servetus;  Whitefield  was  the 
seraph  of  preachers,  and  did  the  world  good  service,  but 


400  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

he  apologized  for  slavery;  Washington  was  a  saint,  but 
he  swore  a  terrible  oath  once. 

"Were  David's  songs  less  pure  and  sweet, 
For  his  tempted  heart  and  wandering  feet  ? 
Were  the  stones  of  the  temple  less  fair  and  good, 
That  Solomon  bowed  to  gods  of  wood?" 

JOHN  DILLON  AND  OTHER  HOME  RULERS. 

John  Dillon,  kindly,  honest,  intrepid,  and  true, — the 
first  time  I  saw  him  was  at  Toledo  before  a  brilliant  assem- 
bly, pleading  the  cause  of  old  Ireland.  The  next  time 
was  behind  the  bars  of  a  British  prison,  smiling  and  hope- 
ful. No  chains  could  crush  that  unconquered  spirit.  The 
last  time  was  in  the  London  Parliament.  Then  he  did 
not  appear  to  have  suffered  much  from  his  long  incarcer- 
ation, although  his  pale  complexion  and  long  straight 
hair  gave  his  face  the  appearance  of  care  and  anxiety. 
He  spoke  in  clear  and  measured  tones.  From  the  outset 
he  commanded  attention  by  his  evident  sincerity  and  by 
his  devotion  to  his  country.  .He  had  spent  several  years 
in  the  United  States,  and  was  thoroughly  conversant  with 
our  politics. 

From  my  seat  in  the  House  of  Commons  I  could  hear 
the  thrilling  tones  of  T.  P.  O'Connor,  a  well-known  jour- 
nalist. Bold  without  bluster,  his  eloquence  exhibited  the 
highest  qualities  of  the  noble  art.  I  lunched  with  Alfred 
Webb,  a  man  of  the  tenderest  sympathy  and  most  en- 
lightened brotherly  love.  Also  Diamond,  a  strong  and 
constant  champion  of  temperance,  a  courteous  gentle- 
man, and  a  very  industrious  member  of  his  party.  Michael 
Davitt,  the  whole-souled  hero,  was  in  grievous  suffering 
for  his  native  land,  that  Ireland  for  which  his  gallant  heart 
so  constantly  palpitated,  and  his  eloquence  so  forcibly 


JOHN  DILLON  AND   OTHER  HOME  RULERS.  401 

vindicated.  With  such  advocates  spending  two-thirds 
of  their  time  in  prison,  Ireland  can  never  be  conquered. 
A  distinguished  Methodist  clergyman  of  Erin  once  told 
me  if  all  the  Home  Rulers  had  Davitt's  broad  and  liberal 
views,  there  would  be  no  question  as  to  the  unity  of  Irish- 
men. He  is  a  fine  speaker,  and  never  fails  to  hold  his 
audiences.  His  is  not  a  pompous  and  verbose  eloquence ; 
but  he  is  a  master  of  speech,  and  always  carries  his  point. 
I  only  heard  a  few  of  the  speakers  of  this  party.  O'Brien, 
Arthur  O'Connor;  Sexton,  a  clear  and  emphatic  orator; 
Esmond,  Healey,  Knox,— -were  all  absent. 

Dr.  Tanner,  a  member  of  the  British  Parliament,  to 
whom  I  was  introduced,  is  a  generous  and  picturesque 
character.  He  is  a  fine  scholar,  a  successful  physician, 
but  eccentric  to  an  extreme  degree.  No  visitor  to  Parlia- 
ment leaves  without  seeing  him.  He  has  a  sarcastic  way 
of  saying  things,  which  sting  like  an  adder.  For  instance, 
when  the  allowances  to  the  royal  family  were  being  voted 
upon,  Tanner  rose  and  made  a  brilliant  but  bitter  assault 
upon  the  Duke  of  Cambridge,  grand  uncle  to  the  queen. 
He  was  challenged  to  fight  a  duel  by  Major  Jones.  "In 
reply,"  said  the  major,  "to  your  despicable  attack  upon 
the  Duke  of  Cambridge,  I  designate  you  a  coward.  De- 
lighted to  give  you  satisfaction — Pistols!"  Tanner  re- 
plied: "Wire  received,  will  meet  you  to-morrow  in  Con- 
stantinople, under  the  Tower  of  Galata,  midnight.  Being 
challenged,  prefer  torpedoes.  Bring  another  ass." 

About  midway  down  the  House  of  Commons  sits  a 
courtly  old  gentleman,  who  was  frequently  mentioned  as 
Gladstone's  successor — Sir  William  Harcourt.  He  has 
intellectual  nerve,  concentration  of  purpose,  and  a  high 
appreciation  of  the  duties  of  a  member  of  Parliament. 

He  was  formerly  the  "Historicus"  of  the  London  Times* 
26 


402  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

the  author  of  articles  which  produced  a  wide  sensation 
at  the  time  of  their  publication.  To  enter  political  life  he 
relinquished  a  salary  of  seventy-five  thousand  dollars  a 
year.  In  conversation  with  him  he  exhibited  a  great  fond- 
ness for  the  United  States,  pointing  to  his  wife  as  an 
American;  she  is  the  daughter  of  the  historian  Motley. 
As. a  speaker  he  is  one  of  the  best  debaters  in  Parliament; 
as  pieces  of  legal  reasoning  his  speeches  are  unanswerable. 
His  manner  is  not  graceful,  as  he  has  the  habit  of  pound- 
ing one  hand  against  the  other  when  he  makes  a  telling 
point. 

Joseph  Chamberlain,  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  act- 
ive Unionists,  is  a  man  of  keen  and  penetrating  aspect. 
In  his  delivery  he  is  calm,  deliberate,  and,  ordinarily,  cool 
and  motionless.  Yet  when  excited  he  indulges  in  his 
usual  rhetorical  gesture — rising  upon  his  toes  and  falling 
with  force  upon  his  heels.  This  motion  somewhat  re- 
sembles the  action  of  a  soldier  when  standing  up  and 
keeping  time  with  the  men.  He  is  a  tall,  well-built  man. 
His  eye  conceals  not  the  intellect;  for  that  glows  within. 
The  poet  might  sing  of  him  as  of  the  old  Scottish  king: 

"  On  his  bold  visage  middle  age 
Has  slightly  pressed  the  signet  sage." 

The  London  World  recently  compared  him  to  Bis- 
marck. There  is  no  comparison.  The  great  German 
never  claimed  to  be  an  orator.  His  speech  was  always 
noted  for  facts  and  bluntness.  Chamberlain  conceals  the 
stiletto  beneath  the  velvet  hand;  Bismarck  could  not 
brook  contradiction.  The  fiercer  the  warfare  on  Cham- 
berlain, the  calmer  and  more  bitter  he  grows.  I  was  in- 
formed by  one  of  his  townsmen  that  he  practiced  and 


JOHN  DILLON  AND   OTHER  HOME  RULERS.  403 

won  his  success  as  a  ready  speaker  in  the  Birmingham 
debating  club.  As  a  specimen  of  his  best  style,  before 
his  desertion,  as  the  Gladstonians  term  it,  here  is  a  sen- 
tence delivered  in  Birmingham  in  1885 :  "I  sometimes 
think  that  great  men  are  like  great  mountains,  and  that 
we  do  not  appreciate  their  magnitude  while  we  are  seated 
close  to  them;  you  must  go  to  a  distance  to  see  which 
peak  it  is  that  towers  above  its  fellows ;  and  it  may  be  that 
we  will  have  to  put  between  us  and  Mr.  Gladstone  a  space 
of  time  before  we  shall  know  how  much  greater  he  has 
been  than  any  of  his  corrfpetitors  for  fame  and  power.  I 
am  certain  that  justice  will  be  done  him  in  the  future, 
and  I  am  also  certain  that  there  will  be  a  signal  condem- 
nation of  those  men  who,  moved  by  motives  of  spite  in 
their  eagerness  for  office,  have  not  hesitated  to  load  with 
indignities  and  insults  the  greatest  statesman  of  our  time." 
It  has  become  a  habit  of  late  years  to  sneer  at  Irish 
eloquence;  but  there  is  not  one  of  the  scoffers  can  pro- 
duce from  among  themselves  the  equal  of  a  thousand 
passages  that  live  in  the  speeches  of  the  fallen  Parliament 
of  Ireland,  or  in  the  records  of  the  present  Home  Rulers. 
I  regret  that  I  only  heard  a  few  of  them.  They  make  no 
pretenses  to  the  oratory  of  the  great  immortals  of  the 
past,  but  in  directness  of  action,  independence  of  thought, 
and  in  readiness  of  debate,  they  were  equal  to  their  ene- 
tnies — the  Unionists  and  Tories.  The  eloquence  of  these 
men  differs  from  all  previous  displays  of  speech  in  its 
downright  practicalness;  there  is  no  scope  for  poetic  and 
lofty  flights  of  oratory ;  the  keynote  of  all  their  addresses 
in  public  and  in  private,  is  the  land  for  the  people.  Judged 
by  O'Connell's  saying,  "A  splendid  speech  is  a  very  fine 
thing,  but  the  verdict  of  the  jury  is  the  thing," — they  have 


404  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

achieved  results  unknown  in  the  history  of  Ireland.  These 
Irishmen  are  the  most  logical  and  practical  of  speakers. 
There  is  not  the  overwhelming  rush  of  words  falling  over 
each  other  which  once  prevailed.  The  magnificence  of 
the  old  oratory  has  given  place  to  a  more  simple  and 
effective  style.  Sexton  is  a  splendid  speaker,  having  a 
large  command  of  words,  a  flowing  utterance,  and  he  is 
very  self-possessed  in  his  delivery,  and  beyond  all  com- 
parison stands  far  above  meager  and  mouthing  English 
members.  His  speeches  are  a  flat  contradiction  of  Charles 
James  Fox's  maxim,  "Speeches  are  made  to  be  spoken, 
and  not  to  be  read."  Sexton's  pleas  for  Home  Rule  read 
as  well  in  the  closet,  and  produce  the  same  effect  as  when 
delivered  in  public.  Healey  was  absent  when  I  visited 
Parliament.  I  was  anxious  to  hear  the  man  who  so  hap- 
pily followed  Gladstone  after  his  great  speech,  offering 
Ireland  the  olive-branch.  Healey  said:  "When  I  heard 
the  honorable  gentleman's  address,  I  could  not  help  but 
think  of  the  royal  prophet's  words:  'How  beautiful  are 
the  feet  of  him  who  bringeth  glad  tidings  and  publisheth 
peace!'" 

John  Redmond  was  also  away.  I  heard  him  once  in 
the  States,  and  in  an  hour  he  spoke  the  eloquence  of 
Giles,  of  Burke,  of  Everett.  While  his  speech  lacked  the 
brilliant  rhetoric  of  Sheil,  by  its  convincing  arguments 
it  carried  conviction  to  the  thousands  who  heard  him. 
He  held  up  no  splendid  phantom  to  the  gaze  of  his  coun- 
trymen— it  was  the  life-and-death  question  of  the  posses- 
sion of  the  land. 

Justin  McCarthy  is  as  well  known  here  as  in  Great 
Britain.  He  has  been  successful  in  every  department  of 
literature.  I  did  not  hear  him  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
but  it  was  my  pleasure  to  hear  him  deliver  a  lecture  upon 


JAMES  SILK  BUCKINGHAM.  405 

the  Irish  peasant  in  a  London  hall  before  the  Irish  Lit- 
erary Society,  an  organization  composed  of  Irish  authors, 
authoresses,  editors,  and  many  members  of  Parliament. 
It  was  a  masterly  delineation  of  the  Irish  peasant,  inter- 
spersed all  through  with  bits  of  Celtic  wit  and  Celtic  fire. 
I  was  recognized  and  called  upon  for  a  few  remarks.  I 
referred  to  the  Irish  peasants'  sons  in  the  United  States, 
their  progress  and  advancement,  citing  the  cases  of  Gen- 
eral Sheridan,  Charles  O'Connor,  and  James  T.  Brady 
of  the  New  York  bar.  I  spoke  of  the  laurels  they  had 
won,  lifting  them  up  from  "obscurity  to  a  dazzling  height ; 
but  that  in  all  their  brilliant  successes  the  blood  which 
flowed  in  their  veins  never  proved  false  to  the  rich  foun- 
tain from  which  it  sprung;  that  they  were  always  proud 
to  own  themselves  the  children  of  Irish  peasants.  This 
part  of  my  speech  was  received  with  cheers,  but  other 
utterances,  more  radical — to  which  I  have  already  re- 
ferred— were  less  favored. 

JAMES  SILK  BUCKINGHAM. 

I  met  James  Silk  Buckingham,  a  member  of  the  Brit- 
ish Parliament,  a  famous  traveler  and  explorer,  and  a 
philanthropist  of  world-wide  celebrity.  He  was  among 
the  first  advocates  of  universal  peace,  and  into  the  legal 
aspect  of  the  temperance  cause  he  entered  with  enthusi- 
asm. He  is  a  grand  specimen  of  an  English  yeoman, 
standing  before  his  audience,  dignified  and  erect,  solid- 
looking  as  a  rock,  with  both  hands  firmly  planted  on 
either  side  of  the  little  table  before  him.  I  also  saw  at  this 
Manchester  meeting  the  eminent  chemist  and  writer,  Dr. 
Lees,  of  Leeds.  He  was  a  tall,  slender,  scholarly  man, 
and,  as  a  speaker,  among  the  best.  He  speaks  simply,  in 
nervous,  straightforward  Saxon.  His  sarcasm,  I  remem- 


406  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

ber,  was  most  galling.  He  visited  the  United  States  a  few 
years  afterward,  and  was  my  guest  at  Wellington,  Ohio, 
where  he  occupied  my  pulpit  to  the  delight  and  admira- 
tion of  an  immense  audience.  Dr.  Lees  was  a  capital 
story-teller  in  conversation,  but  in  his  public  addresses 
seldom  repeated  an  anecdote. 

C.  H.  SPURGEON'. 

I  have  spoken  elsewhere  of  Spurgeon,  and  he  certainly 
ranked  among  the  foremost  pulpit  orators  of  the  world. 
What  raised  him  to  this  high  rank?  It  was  not  his  learn- 
ing. He  was  no  scholar,  and  his  success  has  demonstrated 
that  a  man  can  get  along  and  be  useful  without  it.  Nor 
was  it  his  eloquence.  He  had  great  fluency  of  speech; 
never  seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  word;  but  his  style  was 
homely,  plain,  direct  Saxon.  Nor  was  it  any  novelty  of 
doctrine.  His  hearers  were  never  startled  by  strange 
fancies  in  theology.  And  yet  twenty-four  thousand  eager 
listeners  heard  him  with  delight  every  Sunday.  George 
Eliot  could  see  nothing  in  his  sermons  but  buffoonery. 
"My  impressions  when  I  heard  him,"  she  writes,  "fell  be- 
low the  lowest  judgment  I  had  ever  formed  of  him.  His 
method,"  she  continues,  "is  utterly  common,  and  empty 
of  guiding  intelligence  and  emotion.  I  was  shocked  to 
find  how  low  the  mental  pitch  of  our  society  must  be, 
judged  by  the  standard  of  this  man's  celebrity."  But 
there  were  others  who  were  charmed  by  his  oratory. 
"When  he  mounted  the  pulpit,"  said  Lord  Houghton, 
"you  might  have  thought  him  a  barber's  apprentice;  when 
he  left  it,  he  was  an  inspired  apostle."  "There  is  not 
thought  enough  in  his  sermons  to  fill  a  lady's  thimble, 
but  devotion  enough  to  float  Elijah's  chariot,"  exclaimed 
the  philosopher,  John  Tyndale.  Many  anecdotes  are  re- 
lated of  him.  He  raised  a  hornet's  nest  when  he  defended 


C.   H.   SPURGEON.  407 

smoking.  "There  is  a  Pharasaic  system  which  add.s  to 
the  commands  of  God  the  precepts  of  men,"  he  said.  "I 
smoke  to  the  glory  of  God.  When  I  have  found  intense 
pain  relieved,  a  weary  brain  soothed,  and  calm,  refreshing 
sleep  obtained  by  a  cigar,  I  have  thanked  God  and  blessed 
his  name."  I  heard  of  a  certain  Church  that  gave 
the  collection  to  its  pastor  for  his  support;  the  collection 
after  Mr.  Spurgeon's  sermon  was  unusually  large.  "Dear 
me,"  said  the  pastor,  "what  a  large  collection !"  "What  is 
your  usual  collection?"  "Last  Sunday  it  was  two  pence 
and  a  half-penny."  "What  is  it  to-day?"  "Eight  pence 
and  a  half-penny,"  was  the  reply.  "Woe  is  me !"  said  Spur- 
geon, "for  I  gave  six  pence  of  it  myself."  C.  H.  Spurgeon 
belonged  to  the  English  world.  He  spoke  their  language 
with  a  simple  and  massive  force  which  has  only  been 
equaled  by  John  Bright.  The  power,  simplicity,  and  sin- 
cerity of  the  man,  and  the  flavor  of  a  reliant  personality 
which  ran  through  every  racy  sentence,  remind  us  that 
there  is  only  one  Spurgeon.  When  I  first  heard  him  he 
was  of  medium  height,  with  a  round,  beardless  face.  His 
forehead  was  not  high.  It  was  his  voice  which  was  the 
only  personal  instrument  by  which  he  acquired  such  a 
marvelous  power  over  the  minds  and  hearts  of  his  hearers. 


Chapter  XXVII. 

PRESIDENT   McKINLEY. 

1  FIRST  saw  President  McKinley  in  the  summer  of 
1884,  at  Augusta,  Maine,  when  he  had  made  his  open- 
ing address  for  Blaine  and  Logan  in  that  State.  I  was 
returning  from  Bar  Harbor,  where  I  had  spent  the  even- 
ing with  Blaine,  receiving  instructions  as  to  the  best  meth- 
ods of  political  campaigning.  He  spoke  frequently  of 
Mr.  McKinley,  referring  to  his  advent  into  the  State,  and 
dwelt  with  enthusiasm  upon  his  past  services  in  Congress, 
designating  him  as  "brightest  of  the  men  of  the  country 
who  contributed  to  the  political  progress  of  the  Nation;" 
that  "he  was  endowed  with  a  high  order  of  intellect,  and 
the  destiny  before  him  was  grand  and  elevated." 

President  McKinley,  from  his  tone  of  voice  and  from 
his  personal  appearance,  resembles  the  late  Sir  Robert 
Peel ;  his  voice,  like  Peel's,  has  but  the  compass  of  a  few 
notes,  within  which  he  scrupulously  keeps,  maintaining 
the  tone  of  private  conversation — never  rising  above  it, 
never  sinking  below  it.  He  is  not  as  eloquent  as  Peel; 
but  in  the  weight  of  argument,  the  force  and  novelty  of 
ideas,  the  concentration  of  thought  that  rivets  attention, 
he  has  all  the  effects  of  eloquence,  without  being  eloquent. 
Measured  and  self-possessed  in  his  delivery,  and  to  out- 
ward appearances  cold  and  calm,  yet  his  language  is  that 
of  a  statesman  who  loves  his  country.  He  uses  metaphors 
sparingly,  and  his  correct  taste  and  sound  judgment  il- 
luminate whatever  subject  he  touches  upon.  What  Ro- 
land said  of  Louvet  may  be  appropriately  applied  to 

408 


PRESIDENT  MCKINLEY.  409 

-\ 

President  McKinley:  "Courageous  as  a  lion,  simple  as 
a  child,  a  good  citizen,  in  the  tribune  he  could  make 
Catiline  tremble,  and  in  the  evening  sup  with  the  graces." 
His  army  speeches  teem  with  allusions  to  Lexington, 
Concord,  Fort  Donelson,  Gettysburg,  Atlanta.  He  says 
very  little  of  Anglo-Saxonism,  of  the  glory  of  the  mother 
country.  Mr.  McKinley  has  been  censured  and  admon- 
ished by  some  of  his  own  political  party  as  being  too  ex- 
treme, going  too  far  in  the  advocacy  of  a  high  protection 
for  his  country.  If  these  opponents  search  the  past,  they 
will  find  that  the  American  stands  in  illustrious  company. 
When  Wilberforce  was  awakening  the  horror  of  the  civil- 
ized world,  and  shaking  the  walls  of  the  British  Senate 
with  his  brave  anathemas  against  West  Indian  slavery, 
no  doubt  some  candid  friend  was  ready  to  say  to  him, 
"Wilberforce,  your  motives  are  excellent,  no  doubt,  but 
do  not  be  rash;  you  go  too  far."  But  Wilberforce  per- 
sisted in  going  "too  far,"  and,  in  the  burning  words  of 
Lord  Brougham,  "The  attention  of  the  nation  awoke, 
then  indignation  kindled  and  descended  in  thunder,  and 
smote  the  traffic,  and  scattered  its  guilty  profits  to  the 
winds."  When  Henry  Grattan  stood  up  in  the  Irish  Sen- 
ate to  plead  the  cause  of  Irish  rights  and  Irish  independ- 
ence, no  doubt  a  cautious  friend  said  to  him,  "Grattan, 
it  is  of  no  use;  we  are  all  delighted  with  your  majestic 
eloquence  and  your  talents  and  earnestness ;  you  are  quite 
right  in  the  abstract;  but,  really,  in  the  present  circum- 
stances, you  go  too  far."  But  Henry  Grattan  persisted 
in  going  "too  far,"  and  Irish  rights  were  won  and  Irish 
independence  achieved.  When  the  early  Abolitionists 
commenced  their  agitation  against  slavery,  their  audi- 
ences were  small ;  they  were  advised  that  their  opinions 
were  too  extreme.  The  wise  men  were  scornful,  but  the 


410  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

obscure  agitators  pushed  their  cause  before  the  public 
gaze.  Then,  when  there  were  crowded  audiences,  the 
floodgates  of  slander  were  opened.  But  they  persisted, 
and  the  pestilent  manacles  which  oppressed  millions  were 
struck  from  the  fettered  limbs  of  slaves.  And  William 
McKinley,  believing  his  cause  to  be  just,  would  follow 
that  bright  star  of  protection  to  the  American  toilers, 
beaming  from  the  heavens,  whithersoever  it  might  lead. 

When  I  was  in  Italy  William  McKinley  was  running 
for  governor  of  Ohio,  and  his  name,  so  extensively  men- 
tioned in  the  American  papers,  was  frequently  copied  into 
the  Italian  journals.  Many  of  the  Italians  who  were  not 
versed  in  the  intricacies  of  American  politics,  would  say 
to  me :  "Who  is  McKinley?  Do  you  know  him?  Will  he 
be  elected?"  Everywhere  in  the  great  cities  and  the 
quiet  villages,  Americans  would  be  confronted  with  the 
inquiry,  "Who  is  McKinley?"  I  had  sent  my  resignation 
to  Washington  early  in  the  spring,  and  was  impatiently 
awaiting  a  reply  and  the  appointment  of  a  new  con- 
sul, in  order  that  I  might  return  home  during  the 
summer  to  visit  the  World's  Fair  in  Chicago  {my  re- 
turn did  not  actually  take  place  until  in  December,  so 
great  was  the  delay  in  the  matter),  and  the  Italians  in  the 
household  knew  that  I  was  anxiously  awaiting  news  in 
regard  to  a  new  consul.  One  morning  the  portinai,  or 
portress,  of  the  building  in  which  the  consulate  was  situ- 
ated, rushed  into  the  office,  and  announced :  "O  Signore, 
I  know  who  the  next  consul  is  to  be!"  "Indeed,"  said  I, 
rather  surprised  that  any  one  in  Italy  should  know  it 
before  I  did  myself,  "and  who  is  it?"  "McKinley!"  she 
shouted  triumphantly. 

William  McKinley  is  a  progressive  and  far-seeing 
statesman.  Only  five  years  ago  he  was  known  as  a  strong 


PRESIDENT  MCKINLEY.  411 

protectionist,  and  nothing  more.  At  this  time  he  stands 
before  the  world  commanding  the  applause  of  European 
nations  for  his  successful  and  magnificent  leadership  of 
the  Cuban  War.  He  has  shown  himself  a  statesman  equal 
to  every  emergency.  Festina  lente,  "Make  haste  slowly," 
is  his  motto.  A  statesman  without  apprenticeship,  and 
fame  without  probation,  are  equally  unsound.  There 
were  decided  exceptions  taken  by  many  leading  men  of 
his  party  against  his  theory  of  intervention  in  behalf  of  a 
long-suffering  people.  But  the  results  of  the  war  have 
justified  his  actions.  His  career  in  this  campaign  has 
been  a  succession  of  great  successes.  In  this  and  all  his 
undertakings  there  was  an  inspired  grandeur,  very  natural 
in  a  man  who  awoke  one  morning  and  found  the  world 
ringing  with  his  praise.  His  remedies  for  industrial  de- 
pression, a  judicious  tariff;  his  relief  for  the  Cubans  was 
the  abandonment  of  the  islands  by  the  oppressors;  his 
medicine  for  a  monetary  crisis  was  a  sound  currency ;  his 
encouragement  to  commerce  was  the  return  of  American 
prosperity.  He  always  watches  the  progress  of  events. 
When  Sir  Robert  Peel  submitted  to  the  House  of  Com- 
mons that  measure  of  emancipation,  he  heralded  his 
change  from  his  former  views  by  a  brief  but  remarkable 
confession,  "I  have  watched  the  progress  of  events." 
When  the  Duke  of  Wellington  recommended  to  the 
House  of  Lords  silently  to  acquiesce  in  the  Reform  Bill, 
which  up  to  that  time  he  had  stubbornly  resisted,  he  also 
had  "watched  the  progress  of  events."  When,  still  later, 
Sir  Robert  Peel  had  for  a  second  time  sacrificed  power, 
friendships,  and  the  associations  dearest  to  a  public  man, 
in  order  to  achieve  what  he  believed  to  be  for  the  general 
good  of  England,  he  justified  his  act  upon  the  ground 
that  he  had  "watched  the  progress  of  events."  He  who 


412  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

fails  to  watch  the  progress  of  events  may  enjoy  a  dignified 
seclusion,  but  he  will  never  feel  the  glow  of  pride  and 
satisfaction  that  accompanies  the  sense  of  public  useful- 
ness. He  who  lingers  in  the  rear  of  his  time,  fondling  his 
the6ry  like  some  poor  lunatic  in  his  cage,  while  the  world 
is  marching  on  healthily  active,  may  win  the  commiser- 
ation, but  will  never  have  the  confidence  of  his  fellows. 
To  be  abreast  of  the  age  is  the  first  condition  of  the  public 
service.  Who  does  not  feel  that  President  McKinley  is 
looked  upon  by  his  countrymen  as  the  pilot  into  whose 
hands  the  Ship  of  the  Commonwealth  was  wisely  confided 
in  this  hour  of  storm  and  danger?  And  who  is  ignorant 
that  the  universal  confidence  is  founded  on  the  simple 
fact  that  throughout  every  plan  of  his  life,  through  evil 
and  good  report,  in  office  and  out  of  office,  he  has  never 
lost  sight  of  the  necessities  of  the  Nation,  or  failed  to 
"watch  the  progress  of  events?" 

To  omit  all  mention  of  Mr.  McKinley's  religious  char- 
acter would  be  most  unpardonable,  and  a  ground  for  just 
reproach.  He  is  a  devout  Christian,  an  exemplary  mem- 
ber of  the  Methodist  Church.  His  Christian  home-life 
appeals  to  the  religious  people  of  the  country  with  an 
unmatched  freshness.  He  is  seldom  absent  from  church, 
and  is  generally  accompanied  by  his  accomplished,  high- 
minded,  and  courageous  wife.  In  the  excitement  of  the 
tremendous  contest  which  he  made  for  governor  the  last 
time,  when  he  spoke  at  the  rate  of  three  times  every  day, 
an  old  comrade  of  the  war,  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  met 
him,  and  greeted  him,  saying,  "Major,  you  look  tired." 
"Yes,"  replied  the  major,  "I  am  tired;  but  there  is  not  a 
day  that  I  do  not  ask  the  help  of  God." 

There  is  not  a  taint  of  religious  bigotry  in  his  nature ; 
he  loathes  religious  prejudices.  During  the  Harrison 


PRESIDENT  MCKINLEY.  413 

campaign  a  committee  of  Republicans  asked  a  pious  but 
narrow-souled  Methodist  bishop  if  he  was  a  Republican. 
The  answer  was,  "I  am  a  Methodist,  opposed  to  Roman- 
ism, and  therefore  I  am  a  Republican."  I  saw  McKinley 
a  few  days  afterwards — we  were  both  engaged  in  the  same 
campaign — and  called  his  attention  to  this  fresh  exhi- 
bition of  Burchardism.  He  was  indignant,  and  said,  with 
feeling:  "I,  too,  am  a  Methodist;  but  such  utterances 
are  abhorrent  to  my  soul — they  are  un-American,  anti- 
Republican,  and  opposed  to  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the 
Constitution,  an  insult  to  the  intelligence  and  liberality 
of  the  century.  I  am  sick  and  tired  of  being  held  respon- 
sible for  such  atrocious  statements." 


Appendix. 


THE  NATIONAL  CAUSE— ITS  SANCTITY  AND 
GRANDEUR. 

A  SERMON  ON  THE  NATIONAL,  FAST-DAY,  DELIVERED  IN  THE  METH- 
ODIST EPISCOPAL  CHURCH,  AT  KEENE,  COSHOCTON 
COUNTY,  OHIO,  DECEMBER,  1861. 

"  If,  when  evil  cometh  upon  us,  as  the  sword,  judgment,  or  pes- 
tilence, or  famine,  we  stand  before  this  house,  and  in  thy  presence, 
and  cry  unto  Thee  in  our  affliction,  then  Thou  wilt  hear  and  help  us." 
— 2  CHRON.  xx,  9. 

A  NATIONAL  fast  is  a  greater  thing  than  the  grand- 
est spectacle  of  a  National  Thanksgiving.  The  one 
is  spontaneous,  requiring  no  effort ;  the  other  is  a  conflict 
with  the  selfishness  of  the  human  heart.  An  act  of  thanks- 
giving mingles  with  the  gratification  of  our  bodily  serv- 
ices; but  an  act  of  humiliation  is  the  subjection  of  the 
body  and  the  elevation  of  the  soul.  Hence  we  affirm  with 
truth  that  a  Nation  upon  its  knees  in  the  act  of  humili- 
ation is  a  far  greater  thing  than  the  most  dazzling  and 
magnificent  human  exhibition  of  any  public  act  of  thanks- 
giving. A  whole  Nation,  with  the  President  at  its  head; 
senators,  generals,  ministers,  soldiers,  and  people, — are 
joining  with  one  accord  to  keep  a  solemn  fast  for  the  dis- 
tinct recognition  of  an  Almighty  but  Invisible  God,  as- 
sembling in  all  the  churches  of  the  land,  and  in  the  groves, 
God's  first  temples,  confessing  and  deploring  their  sins; 
supplicating  for  mercy  in  the  midst  of  the  Divine  judg- 
ments, and  bowing  down  with  humble  submission  to  the 
will  of  the  Omnipotent !  How  much  more  sublime  and 
moving  a  spectacle  is  this,  than  the  most  gorgeous  cele- 
bration of  any  earthly  feast  in  the  season  of  prosperity! 

414 


APPENDIX.  415 

A  Nation  humbling  itself  is  better  than  a  Nation  triumph- 
ing; a  people  praying  is,  in  reality,  a  more  glorious  sight 
than  a  victorious  army.  O,  how  much  brighter  than  the 
most  brilliant  illumination  for  a  victory!  The  duty  of 
fasting  has  been  recognized  in  all  ages.  .  .  . 

The  skeptic,  with  a  contemptuous  sneer,  asks  why  a 
national  fast  has  been  proclaimed?  Is  it  not  time  to  pro- 
claim a  fast  on  account  of  the  intense  worldliness  that 
reigns  in  the  land?  Gold  was  becoming  our  supreme 
national  God.  The  creed  of  the  masses  was,  that  life  is 
the  time  to  get  rich;  death  is  the  time  of  speculation; 
heaven  is  a  mart  with  golden  streets ;  hell  a  debtor's  prison 
for  unsuccessful  men, — the  chief  end  of  man  is  to  glorify 
gold,  and  enjoy  it  forever.  Is  it  not  time  to  proclaim  a 
fast  when  insubordination  and  rebellion  at  home  have 
raised  their  horrid  crests?  Is  it  not  time  to  fast  when 
property  and  life  are  insecure?  Is  not  a  fast  required  of 
us  by  God  to  bewail  the  sin  of  slavery,  a  sin  which  is 
founded  on  diabolical  wrong,  and  is  maintained  by  an  un- 
relenting outrage  of  all  the  sacred  rights  of  humanity  and 
a  daring  blasphemy  against  the  laws  of  religion  and  of 
God?  Is  it  not  time  to  proclaim  a  national  fast  when  an 
army  of  rebels,  banded  together  by  the  most  horrid  oaths, 
are  threatening  the  ruin  of  the  noblest  superstructure  of 
civil  government  that  Heaven  ever  vouchsafed  its  crea- 
tures? Is  not  such  a  memorial  due  to  the  patriot  dead? 
The  patriot  martyrology  is  filling  up  its  archives  with  no 
mean  names.  The  "seal  of  the  living  God"  touches  many 
a  brow,  as  noble  victim  after  victim  falls  in  this  pro- 
slavery  rebellion.  These  dead  heroes  are  patterns  to  be 
studied.  It  is  everything  to  point  to  their  labors,  great 
and  splendid.  Rich  triumphs  of  heroism  have  they  won; 
sweet  and  precious  fruit  have  they  yielded.  We  remember 
them  with  delight,  because  vindicating  that  eternal  love 
of  country,  dear  to  every  American  heart.  Who  can 
quote  their  names  without  feeling  the  swift  blood  passing 
swifter  through  his  veins?  The  youthful  and  heroic  Ells- 
worth; the  quiet  and  beautiful  Winthrop;  the  impetuous 
Lyon;  the  illustrious  Baker;  the  amiable  Andrews,  of 


416  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Kenyon,  whom  the  soldiers  loved  when  living,  and  wept 
when  dead;  the  manly  Haggerty,  among  the  earliest  to 
seal  with  his  blood  his  unquenchable  devotion  to  the  land 
of  his  adoption ;  the  intrepid  Kearney,  the  one-armed  hero 
of  a  hundred  fights ;  the  lion-hearted  McCook,  who,  in  the 
agonies  of  assassination,  preached  to  his  murderers  the 
gosepl  of  Union;  Mitchell,  schooled  in  philosophy  and 
science,  trampling  on  the  prizes  of  lettered  ambition, 
coveting  only  to  be  a  soldier  of  the  Union ;  Cantwell,  who 
defied  the  giant  power  of  Rebellion  at  Manassas;  Cass, 
O'Neil,  Hogan,  Donohue,  Coney,  Joyce,  and  Emmet, 
— all  of  Meagher's  famous  brigade;  Perry,  Weirich,  Hes- 
kett,  a  noble  trio,  laying  aside  the  noble  vestment  of  the 
priesthood,  died  for  their  country;  the  veteran  Sumner, 
having  his  soul's  life  in  this  great  cause,  the  one  medium 
of  his  thought  and  feelings,  whose  dying  prayer  was, 
"God  save  my  country,  the  United  States  of  America!" 
the  ardent  and  gallant  Lanning;  the  manly  Patton;  the 
brave  Winlepeck ;  the  names  of  Bechtol,  Emerson,  Craw- 
ford, Smith,  Shannon,  Cross,  Mulford,  Campbell,  Den- 
man,  McMichael, — all  gone!  The  memories  of  these 
noble  men  will  be  held  by  their  friends.  Long  is  the  necro- 
logical  list — sad,  yet  magnificent.  These  men  felt  it  was 
sweet  and  glorious  to  die  for  their  native  land.  The  hands 
that  grasped  the  flag  are  now  stiff ;  the  eyes  that  beamed 
with  patriotic  fire  are  now  closed;  the  ears  that  caught 
the  first  sound  of  the  advancing  foe  are  forever  shut ;  the 
voices  that  marshaled  the  men  to  action  are  forever  mute ; 
but  the  lofty  spirit  of  patriotism  that  impelled  them  to 
deeds  of  noble  daring  can  never  expire;  like  the  word  of 
the  holy  man,  it  shall  endure  forever. 

Should  not  such  models  of  heroism  and  patriotism 
be  so  contemplated  and  copied  that  the  country  may 
never  want  defenders?  The  trophied  Pyrgos  of  Milti- 
ades  on  the  plain  of  Marathon  suffered  not  Themistocles 
to  sleep.  The  monster  statue  erected  by  his  countrymen 
to  O'Connell,  revived  the  expiring  hope  of  Irish  nation- 
ality. The  monument  in  the  capital  of  Belgium  com- 
memorates the  virtues  of  the  three  hundred  martyrs  of 


APPENDIX.  417 

the  revolution.  Amid  the  wild  scenery  in  the  valley  of 
the  Tyrol,  and  by  the  soft  blue  waters  of  Lake  Lucerne, 
the  glorious  Swiss  place  the  image  of  Andreas  Hofer 
and  William  Tell.  On  upland  heath,  in  pleasant  dale,  on 
polished  Loch  Katrine,  the  countrymen  of  Robert  Burns 
celebrate  the  heroism  of  William  Wallace  and  Robert 
Bruce.  In  Italy,  in  Poland,  and  in  Hungary,  the  poets 
of  the  people  in  immortal  verse  rejuvenate  the  patriotic 
fires  of  these  old  nations,  by  pointing  to  the  splendid 
deeds  of  Savonarola,  Kosciusko,  and  the  illustrious  Mag- 
yar. Shall  America  be  less  grateful  to  her  gallant  sons? 
Let  shafts  of  granite  in  every  country  town,  emblazoned 
with  imperishable  sentences,  picture  the  gallantry  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  second  American  Revolution. 

This  day's  solemn  proceedings  teach  us  that  the  trials 
we  are  now  enduring  are  only  a  part  of  a  great  transitional 
development.  No  nations,  however  prosperous,  but  have 
had  their  adversities,  sometimes  resulting  in  their  ruin. 
We  see  this  principle  plainly  dated  in  the  pages  of  every 
nation's  history. 

"Greece,  lovely  Greece, 
The  land  of  scholars  and  the  nurse  of  arms," 

where  Liberty  first  built  her  mountain  throne,  first  called 
the  waves  her  own,  and  shouted  across  them  a  proud  de- 
fiance to  despotism's  branded  myriads;  Greece,  the  land 
of  poets,  sculptors,  philosophers,  and  matchless  orators, 
where  and  what  is  she  now?  It  was  believed  that  Ichabod 
could  never  be  written  over  this  powerful  nation,  then 
considered  the  university  of  the  age,  the  eye  of  the  world, 
and  the  emporium  of  eloquence  and  commerce;  but  her 
ruined  altars,  the  fragments  of  her  temples  of  snowy 
marble,  her  lost  arts,  and  her  dismantled  fanes  proclaim 
with  emphasis  that  for  two  thousand  years  the  oppressor 
has  ground  her  to  the  earth. 

As  we  descend  the  roll  of  centuries,  we  find  an  empire 

which  surely  will  be  indestructible.     Rome,  manly  and 

majestic  Rome,  baptized  herself  the  mistress  of  the  world, 

and  her  eagles  glanced  on  the  rising  and  setting  sun. 

27 


41 8  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

She  boasted  that  she  was  the  Ocean  Queen,  gave  laws 
to  the  world,  and  defied  the  mighty  potentates  of  the 
earth.  But  the  classical  Gibbon  has  sketched  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  Roman  Empire.  England,  France,  and 
Spain  have  had  their  seasons, — times  when  they  arose,  we 
know  how;  when  they  seemed  to  gather  strength  from 
every  struggle,  to  rise  superior  to  every  competitor,  to 
wax  brighter  and  brighter  until  they  arose  to  meridian 
glory;  and  times  when  they  declined,  we  know  why. 

We,  too,  had  our  sunshine  of  prosperity.  For  years 
our  progress  has  been  wonderful.  Arts  and  sciences  have 
advanced  beyond  credence;  the  internal  policy  of  our 
Nation,  its  laws,  organization,  its  justice,  its  liberty,  its 
commerce,  its  territory,  its  churches,  and  its  schools.  The 
sun,  I  believe,  has  never  shone  upon  a  land  for  which  the 
Almighty  has  done  so  much  as  for  Columbia — her  im- 
mensity, her  noble  sea-line,  her  mountains,  forests,  prai- 
ries; her  valley-beds,  whose  fearful  concaves  seas  must 
once  have  filled ;  her  tremendous  denudations,  which  seas 
might  fill  again;  her  estuaries,  which  give  navigation  to 
her  inmost  heart ;  her  sealike  rivers,  more  glorious  high- 
ways than  the  proudest  military  or  princely  pass ;  her  out- 
lets and  embouchures, — all  exhibit  nature  on  its  grandest 
scale.  There  the  often  tried  experiment,  over  which  free- 
dom has  sighed  for  ages,  has  suceeded.  The  most  san- 
guine anticipations  of  the  men  who  signed  the  charter  of 
Independence  is  more  than  realized,  when  within  the  life- 
time of  the  present  generation  of  men  their  successors 
are  making  laws  for  over  thirty  millions,  covering  an  ex- 
tent of  territory  stretching  from  the  billows  of  the  Atlan- 
tic to  the  calmer  waters  of  the  Pacific  main.  The  meta- 
physical Berkeley  sang: 

"  Westward  the  star  of  empire  takes  its  way ; 

The  four  first  acts  already  passed, 
A  fifth  shall  close  the  drama  with  the  day ; 
Time's  noblest  offspring  is  the  last." 

During  the  lengthened  period  of  peace,  when  the 
aegis  of  Divine  protection  preserved  us  from  the  sleet  of 


APPENDIX.  419 

foreign  war,  our  country  was  making  majestic  strides 
in  the  onward  path  of  national  prosperity.  The  whole 
world  was  crowning  us  as  the  proud  Queen  of  Nations. 
Nature  was  pouring  all  her  treasures  into  the  lap  of  Free- 
dom, and  nothing  was  wanting  to  proclaim  the  grandeur 
of  the  crisis;  but  while  we  were  thus  prospering,  beating 
our  swords  into  plowshares  and  our  spears  into  pruning- 
hooks,  the  Southern  disunionists  were  planning  this 
frightful  rebellion  against  the  Constitution;  and  to  the 
amazement  of  the  world,  the  aristocracy  of  the  kingdom 
of  cotton  had  struck  its  first  blow  at  American  repub- 
licanism. The  head  and^  front  and  backbone  of  this  Re- 
bellion is  slavery.  This  is  conceded  by  all  the  advocates 
of  the  South.  The  Convention  of  South  Carolina  de- 
clared that  the  blow  aimed  at  the  Union  had  been  gather- 
ing head  for  thirty  years ;  thus  did  they  blaze  their  hypoc- 
risy to  the  world.  In  addition  to  the  guilty  system  of 
slavery,  the  immediate  cause  of  the  Rebellion,  is  to  be 
found  the  pestilent  heresy  of  State  Sovereignty.  This 
theory  of  State  Rights,  upon  which  the  revolted  States 
have  planted  themselves,  is  unconstitutional.  After  the 
Revolutionary  struggle  was  over  our  patriot  fathers 
formed  a  Union  of  the  Colonies,  under  a  compact  known 
as  the  "Articles  of  Confederation."  As  the  Nation  in- 
creased, this  compact  was  found  to  be  wholly  inadequate 
to  secure  the  efficient  carrying  out  of  the  ends  of  govern- 
ment. Experience  taught  that  such  a  league  was  worth- 
less. This  led  to  the  formation  of  our  present  Consti- 
tution. 

This  instrument  took  effect  in  1789,  and  never  con- 
templated the  withdrawal  of  a  State  once  entering.  If  a 
State  has  the  right  to  secede,  so  have  the  counties  of 
every  State,  and  the  towns  of  every  county,  and  the  citi- 
zens of  every  town.  We  owe  it  to  every  citizen,  to  our 
posterity  forever,  to  the  struggling  nations  of  the  earth, 
to  every  friend  of  humanity,  to  every  hater  of  monarchy, 
to  the  precious  memory  of  the  slaughtered  patriots,  to 
God  and  the  world,  to  annihiliate  the  doctrine  of  State 
Sovereignty  forever.  Mr.  Stephens,  the  expounder  of  the 


420  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

new  order  of  things,  says  that  slavery  is  the  corner-stone 
of  the  Confederacy.  The  like  was  never  known  before. 
Revolutions  have  had  for  their  watchword  and  war-cry, 
"Liberty  or  Death !"  To  save  the  liberties  of  Rome  the 
imperial  purple  fell.  For  this  Hungary  agonizes;  Italy 
organizes ;  Poland  strikes ;  Ireland  pants  to  crush  the  per- 
fidious aristocrat;  and  for  this  Jefferson  wrote  the  im- 
mortal charter.  A  government  based  on  slavery  can  not 
succeed.  The  throne  of  God  is  against  it,  and  the  uni- 
versal cry  of  despotism's  captive  millions,  "Down  with 
slavery  forever!" 

Great  and  splendid  names  may  indeed  be  numbered 
among  the  votaries  of  the  Slave  Confederacy, — names 
which  have  acquired  high  renown  in  the  annals  of  philos- 
ophy and  genius. 

The  slaveholding  Confederacy  derives  no  luster  from 
the  rank  or  fame  of  its  disciples.  The  disciples  are  but 
sunk  by  the  vileness  of  the  political  heresy  they  have  em- 
braced ;  and  O,  it  is  mournful  beyond  expression  to  think 
of  men  whose  talents  might  have  advanced  the  noblest 
of  objects,  and  whose  memories  might  have  been  perpetu- 
ated in  pure  and  imperishable  fame,  but  who,  by  becoming 
the  advocates  of  such  a  monstrous  Rebellion  have  dark- 
ened their  own  glory  and  poisoned  their  own  happiness, 
and  committed  themselves  to  the  execrations  of  mankind 
throughout  the  world !  The  systems  of  slavery  and  seces- 
sion— wretched  compounds  of  every  crime  known  in  the 
catalogue  of  depravity — are,  under  all  possible  aspects,  to 
be  held  up  to  unmingled  and  unmitigated  scorn.  The 
Catilines  of  the  Republic  have  been  educated  at  its  ex- 
pense ;  been  laden  with  its  honors ;  been  fed  at  its  treasury. 
We  may  say,  with  the  poet,  over  the  stricken  eagle, 

"Keen  were  his  pangs,  yet  keener  far  to  feel 
He  nursed  the  pinion  which  impelled  the  steel, 
While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warmed  his  nest, 
Drank  the  last  life  drop  of  his  bleeding  breast." 

In  the  day  of  judgment  the  bloody  deeds  of  Nero, 
Caligula,  and  Brant  will  be  venial  in  comparison  with  the 


APPENDIX.  42 1 

perfidy,  perjury,  and  savagery  of  the  instigators  of  this 
wicked  insurrection. 

"  The  common  damned  will  pass  them  by, 
And  know  themselves  as  fiends  less  foul." 

Next  to  the  South,  the  Union  of  these  States  has  its 
most  formidable  foes  in  the  governing  classes  of  England. 
The  able  statesman  and  accomplished  diplomatist,  Will- 
iam H.  Seward,  has  said,  had  it  not  been  for  the  sympathy 
and  national  aid  of  the  English  aristocracy,  this  Rebellion 
might  have  been  subdued  in  three  months.  This  incom- 
parable Government  has  always  been  an  eyesore  to  the 
British  Crown  and  Parliament.  The  steady  and  splendid 
progress  of  the  freest  and  most  popular  form  of  govern- 
ment that  ever  was  established  in  the  world,  struck  the 
most  lively  alarm  into  the  hearts  of  all  aristocrats,  who 
were  anxious  to  have  it  established  that  the  sovereign 
people  were  not  capable  of  self-government.  .Before  Eu- 
rope and  America  I  solemnly  and  deliberately  charge 
England  with  the  tremendous  crime  of  perpetuating  this 
Rebellion,  and  of  widening  the  Constitutional  Union  of 
these  States.  English  intrigue,  backed  by  English  love 
of  gold,  is  trying  to  accomplish  what  English  arms  could 
not  accomplish  in  1812,  the  destruction  of  the  American 
navy,  to  regain  for  herself  her  old  maritime  supremacy. 
If  the  American  Union  is  destroyed,  England  has  a  new 
lease  of  power, — she  will  have  California  and  its  golden 
treasures.  Our  destruction  is  worth  more  to  England 
than  twenty  Waterloos.  Well  does  the  old  hypocrite 
know  this;  long  has  she  labored,  therefore,  to  effect  the 
ruin  over  which  she  now  rejoices.  The  present  England 
does  not  remind  me  of  the  England  of  Clarkson,  of  Wil- 
berforce,  of  Buxton,  and  of  O'Connell,  who  proscribed 
the  foul  traffic  in  human  flesh,  and  threw  down  millions 
as  a  ransom  to  extinguish  slavery  in  her  Colonies.  But  I 
am  reminded  of  the  England  whose  deputies  betrayed, 
poisoned,  stabbed,  and  assassinated  Irish  princes  in  the 
good  old  days ;  of  the  England  whose  generals  slaughtered 
Irish  peasants  by  tens  of  thousands,  or  put  them  into 


422  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

scuttled  ships  to  sink  at  sea,  or  sold  them  to  West  India 
planters ;  of  the  England  whose  Clive  and  Hastings  mur- 
dered Indian  kings,  plundered  their  revenues,  decimated 
their  people,  and  exposed  their  wives  and  daughters  to 
insult  in  the  public  market-place;  of  the  England  whose 
officials  butchered  the  Chinese  because  they  refused  to 
consume  the  deadly  drug  of  opium;  of  the  England 
whose  hired  mercenaries  executed  the  heroic  Emmet 
for  the  simple  reason  that  he  could  not  learn  to 
chant  the  litany  of  slaves;  of  the  England  whose 
packed  juries  forever  ostracized  from  a  land  they 
adored,  the  gallant  Meagher  and  brave  Corcoran;  of  the 
England  whose  oppressive  laws  produce  periodical  fam- 
ines, and  which  to-day  fill  the  houses  of  Ireland  with  lam- 
entation, mourning,  and  woe.  The  cheap  policy  of  ex- 
terminating the  Irish,  which  England  has  adopted  for 
years,  is  soon  to  end;  for  the  news  now  is,  that  all  over 
Ireland  there  can  be  heard  the  tramp  of  thousands  drilling. 

A  day  of  reckoning  is  coming.  Already  Ireland  is 
awakening  from  sleep,  and  a  flash  of  electric  fire  is  pass- 
ing through  her  millions.  The  refusal  of  the  students 
of  the  Dublin  University  to  illuminate  their  halls  in  honor 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales's  marriage,  and  the  immense  meet- 
ings held  in  all  parts  of  the  country  to  sympathize  with 
America,  demonstrate  that  Ireland  is  preparing  to  strike 
the  grandest,  meanest,  falsest  tyranny  that  ever  deformed 
the  world. 

It  only  remains  to  suggest  a  few  of  the  bright  features 
developed  by  the  present  war. 

What  sublime  lessons  of  wisdom  may  we  have  been 
learning  from  that  rude  instructress,  war!  In  reviewing 
the  past  two  years  there  are  many  bright  lights  in  an 
otherwise  dark  picture.  Behind  the  darkest  material 
cloud  there  is  still  the  sunlight  that  has  shone  on  from  the 
earliest  moment  through  ages  of  undiminished  brilliancy. 
In  like  manner  the  present  desolating  war  has  its  bright 
lights.  The  high-minded  and  Christian  reluctance  of  the 
Government  to  embark  in  the  actual  horrors  of  the  con- 
test, and  their  earnest,  judicious,  and  honorable  though 


APPENDIX.  423 

unsuccessful  efforts  to  avert,  by  diplomatic  negotiation, 
an  appeal  to  arms,  is  the  first  bright  light  in  the  conduct 
of  the  Administration.  If  it  be  the  rule  of  Christian  duty 
for  an  individual,  it  is  equally  so  for  a  Christian  Nation. 
"If  it  be  possible,  as  much  as  lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably 
with  all  men."  We  could  ill  have  spared  the  comfort  of 
that  retrospective  reflection  amid  the  sad  disasters  that 
have  ensued.  It  was  not  until  the  eleven  batteries  manned 
by  eight  thousand  Confederates  made  the  murderous  as- 
sault upon  the  gallant  Anderson  and  his  heroic  crew  that 
the  Government  had  recourse  to  the  sword.  The  thunder 
of  cannon  in  Charleston  Harbor  aroused  the  Nation.  Evil 
as  war  is,  it  is  still  the  less  of  two  evils.  Better  the  crash, 
the  fiery  bolt ;  better  the  wild  torrent  from  the  mountains, 
sweeping  away  the  corn  and  the  vines,  than  the  stagnant 
pool,  breeding  deadly  pestilence. 

Another  bright  light  is  the  patriotism  of  the  people. 
Patriotism  is  a  virtue  of  the  highest  order.  There  is  a 
splendor  about  it  which  causes  it  to  commend  itself  to 
all  men.  It  is  a  beautiful  and  glorious  thing.  The  love 
of  country  is  a  noble  sentiment.  It  is  this  principle  that 
binds  man  to  man;  which  associates  with  itself  all  the 
sweet  charities  of  home ;  which  speaks  the  same  language, 
recognizes  a  common  interest,  sits  down  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  same  laws;  which  causes  the  Laplander  to 
prefer  the  eternal  snows  of  his  wintry  life  to  all  the  splen- 
dor and  profusion  of  Asia,  because  it  is  his  country.  He 
who  would  not  dare  and  do  for  the  land  of  his  birth  is 
deficient  in  the  elements  of  greatness,  and  deserves  to  be 
a  slave.  More  than  seven  hundred  thousand  patriotic 
American  citizens,  faithful  to  the  counsels  and  memory 
of  Washington,  are  under  arms  by  land  and  sea,  to  de- 
fend the  Nation's  integrity  and  life.  In  the  records  of  the 
world  such  a  sight  has  never  before  been  seen.  Since 
the  day  of  Pentecost  such  a  baptism  has  never  fallen  on 
the  world, — the  people  are  inspired. 

The  valor  and  splendid  exploits  of  our  gallant  soldiers 
is  another  bright  light  in  the  present  war.  How  sublime 
the  lessons  of  heroism  already  given  us  by  the  noble 


424  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Ellsworth!  Already  a  race  of  heroes  springs  from  his 
blood.  There  has  been  illustrated  in  gory  lettering  on 
many  an  ensanguined  field  the  hereditary  courage  of  the 
heroic  past.  The  story  of  the  Pilgrims,  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary Fathers,  is  no  more  a  dead  victory,  but  a  living 
power.  It  is  easy  to  speak  thrillingly  and  rapturously 
of  deeds  of  human  enterprise,  and  every  tongue  is  ready 
to  swell  the  praises  of  Columbus,  who  went  forth  on  the 
waste  of  waters,  burning  to  snatch  a  New  World  from 
the  grave  of  centuries;  and  to  echo  the  fame  of  William 
Tell,  who  bade  the  splendid  land  of  lake  and  cataract  and 
mountain  spurn  the  base  yoke  of  foreign  despots.  Every 
one  admires,  every  one  extols  these  daring  purposes  of 
master  and  fiery  spirits;  but  think  ye  that  the  sublime  pa- 
tience of  the  army  exhibited  in  the  bitter  night  watches, 
in  the  trenches,  and  their  unyielding  valor  in  the  con- 
tested field,  are  not  as  equally  deserving  the  applause  of 
every  lover  of  free  institutions?  The  man  who  would 
withhold  the  laurel  from  our  brave  defenders  is  in  mind 
a  fool,  or  in  heart  a  traitor.  If  the  pulse  beats  not  high 
at  the  recital  of  the  daring  deeds  displayed  at  Lexington, 
Antietam,  Stone  River,  a  kind  of  polar  spell  must  have 
chained  the  life's  blood. 

The  war  has  brought  out  one  fine  result, — it  has 
shown  that  the  weaker  sex,  though  born  to  wealth  and 
luxury,  are  ready  to  renounce  every  comfort  and  brave 
every  hardship,  that  they  may  minister  to  the  suffering, 
tend  the  wounded  in  their  agony,  and  soothe  the  last 
struggles  of  the  dying.  God  bless  the  Sisters  of  Charity 
in  their  heroic  mission — I  had  almost  said  their  heroic 
martyrdom !  And  I  might  have  said  it ;  for  I  do  think 
that  in  walking  through  those  long  lines  of  sick-beds, 
in  giving  themselves  to  all  the  ghastly  duties  of  the  hos- 
pital, they  are  doing  a  harder  thing  than  was  allotted 
to  many  who  mounted  the  scaffold  or  dared  the  stake. 
Where  did  the  Roman  youth  get  their  amor  pa-trice  so 
that  they  came  forth  with  eagerness  to  fight  the  battles 
of  the  State?  Daughters  caught  it  from  their  mothers, 
when  they  heard  them  speak  with  exultation  of  the  ex- 


APPENDIX.  425 

ploits  of  their  fathers  in  the  field;  sons  caught  it  when 
their  fathers  returned  from  the  battle,  as  they  doffed  their 
helmets  and  hung  up  their  shields,  and  said  that  the  first 
duty  of  a  citizen  was  to  the  State. 

The  matrons  of  America,  baptizing  their  sons  and 
brothers  with  their  tears,  bade  them  grasp  the  gleaming 
steel  in  defense  of  their  'imperiled  institutions.  These 
heroic  women  are  the  inheritors  of  all  the  glory  of  Cor- 
nelia, and  they  possess  all  the  sublime  self-sacrifice  of 
the  Spartan  who  said :  "Dear  are  these  my  children,  dear 
are  the  charities  of  home;  but  my  country  is  dearer 
than  all." 

The  grand  Union  army  is  an  impressive  and  beauti- 
ful illustration  of  the  profound  affection  entertained  for 
a  republican  Government  by  the  foreign-born  citizens  of 
the  country.  In  the  army  of  the  Union  are  to  be  found 
Italians,  who  fought  under  Garibaldi  for  the  unification 
of  Italy;  Hungarians,  in  whose  ears  linger  the  inspiring 
tones  of  Kossuth's  voice;  Poles,  who  yet  dream  of  an 
independent  Poland;  Germans,  whose  love  of  liberty  is 
proverbial, — the  names  of  the  gallant  Sigel,  the  brave 
Osterhaus,  and  the  noble  Stahls,  are  as  familiar  as  house- 
hold words.  The  Irish  element  in  this  war  is  significant, 
and  is  suggestive  of  a  few  observations.  Doubt  was  felt 
in  some  quarters  whether  foreigners,  especially  Roman 
Catholics,  would  respond  to  the  Nation's  call.  This  sus- 
picion was  groundless ;  for  they  have  furnished  a  splendid 
percentage  of  the  entire  army. 

In  speaking  so  highly  of  the  Irish  regiments  and  their 
leaders,  I  am  not  invidious;  for  the  common  glory  be- 
longs to  all.  All  hail  to  the  thousands  composing  the 
Union  army !  No  matter  under  what  sky  they  drew  the 
breath  of  life,  they  will  receive,  as  they  richly  deserve, 
the  thanks  of  every  republican  throughout  the  world. 

"  From  the  vineland,  from  the  Rhineland,  from  the  Shannon,  from  the 

Scheldt ; 

From  the  ancient  homes  of  genius,  from  the  saintly  home  of  Celt ; 
From  Italy,  from  Hungary,  all  as  brothers  join,  and  come, 
To  the  sinew-bracing  bugle  and  the  foot-propelling  drum  ; 


426  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

And  proud  beneath  the  starry  flag  to  keep  and  to  secure 
The  liberty  they  dreamed  of  by  the  Danube,  Elbe,  and  Suir. 
Here  Scots  and  Poles,  Italians,  Gauls,  with  native  emblems  fight, 
Here  Teuton  corps,  who  fought  before,  Fur  Freiheit  und  fur  Llchh 
While  round  the  flag  the  Irish,  like  a  human  rampart  go, 
They  found  Cead  Mille  Faillhe  here  :  they'll  give  it  to  the  foe." 

In  this  union  of  races  and  beliefs  I  see  an  omen  of 
success.  These  bright  features  of  the  war  are  cheering 
things  in  our  destinies — tokens  that  we  are  neither  for- 
gotten nor  forsaken  by  God.  But  nevertheless  I  can  not 
conceal  from  you  my  conviction  that  we  have  arrived  at  a 
momentous  crisis  in  the  history  of  our  country.  The 
ruthless  hand  of  Rebellion  is  making  a  powerful  effort  to 
tear  down  this  beautiful  fabric  of  Christian  civilization, 
to  undermine  the  splendid  columns  of  our  free  country, 
and  everything  we  hold  valuable  is  at  stake.  It  is,  hu- 
manly speaking,  for  you  to  say  in  what  condition  the 
future  generations  of  this  country  shall  be  born — whether 
the  new  immortals,  as  they  spring  into  life,  shall  find 
themselves  surrounded  by  the  bulwarks  of  freedom,  or 
the  untamed  ferocities  of  a  slave  empire.  I  conjure  you 
this  day  to  ignore  partisanship,  and  imitating  Themis- 
tocles  and  Aristides  on  the  plains  of  Marathon,  unite  and 
repel  the  enemies  of  your  country.  There  were  two  great 
parties  in  the  Roman  Commonwealth  when  Hannibal 
came  down  like  an  avalanche  from  the  Alps  and  was 
marching  to  the  Capital.  The  Senate  was  confounded; 
the  venerable  Sempronius  exclaimed :  "Gods !  which  of 
the  two  shall  we  choose,  slavery  or  death?  I  am  for 
war!"  It  was  enough;  the  timid  became  heroic,  and 
united  to  carry  the  war  into  Africa  with  triumphant  and 
swift  success. 

Let  us  'imitate  and  emulate  their  action.  I  summon 
you,  by  your  sentiments  of  patriotism;  your  quenchless 
spirit  of  liberty;  the  welfare  of  the  'Nation;  by  your  alle- 
giance to  the  Government ;  by  the  memory  of  the  heroic 
dead,  whose  bones  are  bleaching  on  the  Southern  plains ; 
by  the  smoking  blood  of  your  brothers  and  kinsmen; 
by  a  slaughtered  army, — to  place  this  day  upon  the  altar 


APPENDIX.  427 

of  your  country  such  an  offering  of  patriotism  as  will 
prove  to  the  world  that  this  Union  must  and  shall  be 
preserved.  I  bring,  as  it  were,  the  banner  of  beauty  and 
glory,  with  magnificent  emblazonry  of  stars,  to  the  shrine 
of  this  sacred  place,  and  unfurl  its  radiant  folds  before 
you.  Lyook  upon  it  as  it  waves  in  your  midst.  It  has 
floated  in  many  a  breeze;  it  has  been  borne  in  many  a 
battle ;  many  a  fierce  day  has  it  waved ;  over  many  a 
battlement  has  it  been  made  to  float  in  triumph;  many 
a  brave  hand  has  grasped  it;  and  many  a  warrior's  eye 
has  kindled,  and  many  a  warrior's  heart  has  throbbed, 
as,  looking  upon  it  in  all  its  bloodstained  beauty,  and 
reading  the  motto,  "By  this,  conquer!"  he  has  followed 
it  into  the  scene  of  warfare  and  of  death.  When  I  have 
seen  this'  flag  in  other  lands  and  gazed  upon  its  stainless 
stars,  my  heart  has  melted  within  me,  as  I  remembered 
that  under  it  Washington  fought,  Taylor  planted  it  on 
the  heights  of  Monterey,  and  Scott  over  the  halls  of 
Montezuma.  That  flag  has  been  dishonored.  The  liv- 
ing Jehovah;  the  brilliant  group  of  patriots,  reposing 
in  eternal  peace;  the  spirits  of  departed  worthies,  bend- 
ing down  from  their  lofty  dwellings;  illustrious  martyrs 
of  all  countries;  and  Columbia,  your  country, — address 
you,  and  by  a  signal  synonymous  with  triumph,  conjure 
you  to  lift  up  that  banner,  to  advance  that  flag,  until  its 
stars  shall  gleam  from  California's  Gulf  to  Hudson's  Bay, 
and  from  the  Queen  of  the  Antilles  to  the  domains  of  our 
august  friend,  the  Czar  of  Russia. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  first  time  I  saw  your  splendid 
banner.  It  was  when  the  Green  Isle  was  burdened  with  a 
slaughter  which  excited  a  world's  sympathies.  As  its 
folds  were  waved  over  that  ship  with  bread  for  the  starv- 
ing, I  read  your  grand  history.  The  past  rose  up  before 
me.  A  Nation's  flag  is  a  Nation's  history.  I  saw  Samuel 
Adams,  the  prophet  and  the  guide  of  the  rebels,  write  the 
immortal  sentence,  and  fling  it  to  the  bending  heavens  and 
to  the  listening  earth,  "Resistance  to  tyrants  is  obedience 
to  God."  I  saw  that  august  body — which  Lord  Chatham 
declared  the  noblest  assembly  ever  convened — the  Conti- 


428  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

nental  Congress,  and  I  saw  the  tall  and  princely  form  of 
Charles  Thompson,  its  secretary,  read  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  I  saw  General  Washington,  clarum  et 
venerabile  nomen,  take  command  under  the  old  elm-tree 
at  Cambridge.  I  saw  the  Revolutionary  soldiers,  bare- 
footed and  weary,  track  the  frozen  ground  with  their 
blood  as  they  marched  to  Valley  Forge.  I  saw  the  patri- 
otic women  of  New  Jersey,  when  the  cartridges  gave  out, 
invade  the  churches,  fill  their  arms  with  hymn-books, 
saying  to  the  soldiers,  "Boys,  give  them  Watts;  boys,  give 
them  Watts."  I  saw  the  Liberty  Boys  of  New  York  take 
down  the  brass  statue  of  King  George,  and  I  saw  their 
wives  and  daughters  melt  it  into  forty  thousand  bullets, 
and  send  it  back  to  the  king  in  the  bodies  of  his  red-coated 
soldiers.  I  saw  the  English  army  after  Yorktown  dis- 
appear. I  saw  the  gaunt  frame  and  heard  the  sublime 
oath  of  Andrew  Jackson,  when  he  swore  "that  this  Union 
must  and  shall  be  preserved."  I  resolved  then  and  there 
to  become  an  American,  to  cast  my  lot  with  this  people, 
and  the  services  I  have  rendered  that  flag  have  been  the 
happiest  recollections  of  my  life. 


DEAD  ON  THE  FIELD  OF  HONOR. 

Delivered  on  the  3oth  of  May,  1896,  in  New  Philadelphia. 

VETERANS  of  the  Grand  Army!  You  are  the  ora- 
tors of  the  day.  Your  bronzed  faces,  your  shrunken 
and  withered  forms,  your  white  hairs,  your  flowers,  your 
tears,  your  glorified  wounds,— all  speak  more  thrillingly, 
tenderly,  and  eloquently  to  the  human  heart  than  any 
words  of  mine  at  this  sacred  and  memorable  hour.  It 
is  indeed  a  holy  and  a  solemnly-beautiful  scene.  Lovingly, 
in  the  midst  of  green  leaves  and  the  opening  splendors 
of  the  summer,  assemble  the  pride  and  beauty  of  the 
country  to  crown  with  sweet  flowers  the  sepulchers,  and 
to  keep  green  and  fragrant  the  heroic  memories  of  the 
dead  heroes  of  the  American  Republic.  Decorating  the 
graves  with  flowers,  grown  in  nature's  virgin  purity,  is 


APPENDIX.  429 

a  good  old  custom.  In  Virgil's  splendid  epic  we  read 
that  when  the  funeral  pile  of  Marcellus  was  preparing, 
the  aged  Anchises  said  to  his  son : 

"  Full  canisters  of  fragrant  lilies  bring, 
Let  me  with  funeral  flowers  his  body  strew; 
This  gift  which  parents  to  their  child  do  owe, 
This  unavailing  gift,  at  least,  I  may  bestow." 

It  was  done  for  the  Grecians  slain  at  Marathon.  But 
neither  in  Greece  nor  in  Rome  was  there  ever  such  a 
floral  offering  as  takes  place  to-day  throughout  our  broad 
and  magnificent  land.  Thirty  millions  reverently  and 
gracefully  lay  their  tributes  of  pure  flowers,  sweet  em- 
blems of  all  that  is  beautiful  and  true,  upon  the  dust  of 
three  hundred  thousand  martyrs.  O,  sacred  devotion  to 
duty!  O  glorious  patriotism!  Brilliant  though  this 
scene  be,  it  is  only  a  small  and  insignificant  part  of  that 
mighty  chorus  which  commemorates  in  speech  and  song 
the  gallantry  and  peerless  courage  of  the  patriot  dead. 
Throughout  this  vast  Commonwealth  there  are  songs 
sung,  fervent  eulogies  delivered,  there  are  prayers  offered 
to  the  Throne,  and  there  are  tens  of  thousands  of  brave 
hands  and  fair  hands  decorating  every  grave  spot  with 
beautiful  chaplets !  Upon  the  banks  of  great  rivers,  in 
the  valley  of  Sacramento,  in  the  golden  gorges  of  the 
Yuba,  on  the  red  hills  of  Georgia,  throughout  the  broad 
plains  of  the  Carolinas,  and  on  the  green  hills  of  New 
England,  is  this  day  hailed  as  the  festival  of  the  redemp- 
tion of  Liberty.  The  dead  soldiers  of  the  Union !  How 
suggestive  the  text!  They  went  to  death  with  all  the 
radiance  of  true  chivalry.  In  the  honored  graves  in  which 
they  sleep,  they  are  far  above  the  arguments  of  the  living 
crowd ;  and  though  many  of  them  have  no  grand  mauso- 
leum to  enshrine  their  ashes,  yet  there  memory  is  sweet 
and  their  deeds,  like  the  higher  stars,  shall  shine  forever. 
That  the  land  of  Washington  might  be  free,  they  laid 
down  their  lives,  and  even  with  a  patriotic  rapture,  im- 
plored the  stroke  of  martyrdom. 

It  may  be  justly  said  of  them  what  an  eloquent  Euro- 


430  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

pean  said  of  those  who  fell  before  the  walls  of  Buda,  the 
consciousness  of  doing  right  impressed  upon  their  dead 
features  proved  them  to  be  the  nameless  demigods  of 
Liberty.  Since  that  fatal  April  morning,  rich  with  roses, 
when  the  first  flash  of  the  traitorous  guns  sent  the  blas- 
phemous challenge  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  many  noble 
and  gifted  soldiers  have  gone  to  a  better  and  brighter 
world!  With  souls  unflinching  and  with  hearts  as  brave 
as  ever  beat,  they  died  for  their  country.  When  the 
illustrious  French  soldier,  Latour  d'Auvergne,  the  first 
grenadier  of  France,  as  he  was  simply  and  honorably 
called,  fell  in  the  service  of  his  country,  his  name  was 
still  retained  on  the  muster-roll  of  his  regiment,  and  when 
called  out  by  the  commanding  officer  upon  service  days, 
as  if  he  were  still  present,  the  oldest  soldier  would  step 
out  of  the  ranks,  and,  amid  the  solemn  silence  of  his 
comrades,  reply  in  these  touching  words:  "Dead  on  the 
field  of  honor/'  And  so  when  the  muster-roll  is  read 
out  to  future  generations,  to  their  names  shall  be  added 
as  their  best  and  most  appropriate  epitaph:  "Dead  on 
the  field  of  honor."  Long  is  the  list,  sad,  yet  magnificent. 
The  youthful  Ellsworth,  the  quiet  Winthrop,  the  heroic 
Lyon;  Mitchell,  with  his  genial  face  and  kindly  heart, 
schooled  in  philosophy  and  science;  McCook  of  the  lion 
heart,  breathing  out  his  life,  and  preaching  in  the  agonies 
of  death,  the  gospel  of  the  Union;  McPherson,  having 
his  soul's  life  in  the  great  cause,  sinking  beneath  the  can- 
nibal blows  of  assassins!  Who  can  recall  that  name  and 
not  be  impressed  with  a  sense  of  stainless  chivalry?  His 
was  a  master  mind,  his  was  a  consuming  zeal.  There  was 
in  him  an  assemblage  of  qualities  which  raised  him  to  a 
parallelism  with  the  noblest  confessors  of  freedom.  How 
does  the  wave  of  the  Chattahoochie  seem  to  redden  with 
his  name  and  murmur  with  his  blood!  He  was  raised 
to  a  higher  command— that  of  the  celestials.  Surely  the 
gallant  soldier  is  there,  listening  to  the  harpers  harping 
with  their  harps.  Lytle,  of  the  brave  loth  Ohio,  wield- 
ing a  power  to  which  all  difficulties  yielded;  great  as  a 
soldier,  but  gentle  as  the  flower  which  he  loved  to  train ! 


APPENDIX.  43 1 

Smith,  the  stripling  commander  of  the  43d,  who  defied 
the  giant  power  of  the  Rebellion  in  its  strongest  de- 
fenses, planting  the  banner  of  the  Union  where  no  power 
can  ever  again  trail  it  in  the  dust!  Then  those  master 
spirits,  Sedgwick,  Wadsworth,  Kearney,  Sumner,  Cor- 
coran, Reno,  Rawlins! 

The  spectacle  of  our  martyrology  grows  upon  us! 
Pale,  dreamless  sleepers,  their  memories  are  pious,  glo- 
rious, and  immortal.  The  victories  of  the  war  were  those 
of  the  privates.  I  would  not  take  one  laurel  from  the 
brows  of  the  great  captains  who  led  our  hosts  to  vic- 
tory— the  persistent  Grant,  the  Crichton  of  our  armies; 
from  the  chivalrous  and*  fighting  Rosecrans;  from  the 
accomplished  McClellan;  from  the  brilliant  Sherman; 
from  the  intrepid  Sheridan,  whose  cavalry  charges  rival 
those  of  Murat ;  from  the  high-spirited  and  dashing  Han- 
cock; from  the  heroic  Meade;  from  the  great  host  of 
generals  who  gathered  around  the  "banner  of  beauty  and 
glory,"  as  Napoleon's  marshals  did  around  the  imperial 
eagle;  but,  nevertheless,  our  success  must  be  ascribed, 
under  God,  to  the  stout  hearts  and  iron  arms  of  the  en- 
listed men  of  the  army.  We  are  here  to  honor  them  by 
strewing  their  graves  with  these  rare  flowers.  Would 
that  they  remained  of  perpetual  beauty,  bloom,  and  fra- 
grance! Their  sepulchers  by  day  shall  be  watched  over 
by  the  sun,  and  by  night  by  the  constellated  stars !  Wher- 
ever Freedom  plants  her  standard,  these  deeds  of  mag- 
nificent heroism  shall  be  mentioned  with  devotion.  The 
trophied  tomb  of  Miltiades,  on  the  plain  of  Marathon, 
would  not  suffer  Themistocles  to  sleep.  On  the  scene 
of  the  battle  was  erected  a  spotless  shaft  of  marble  to 
the  memory  of  the  fallen  Spartan  heroes,  who  sent  back 
the  glorious  answer  to  Xerxes  when  he  demanded  their 
arms,  "Come  and  take  them!"  and  on  that  monument 
was  written  an  inscription  by  Simonides:  "O,  stranger, 
tell  it  at  Lacedsemon  that  we  died  here  in  obedience  to 
her  laws."  Their  statues,  in  Greece  stir  the  heart.  Fiery 
young  Greeks  often  exclaim,  "The  trophies  of  Miltiades 
will  not  let  me  sleep." 


432  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Our  honored  dead,  like  the  Spartans,  felt  it  was  sweet 
and  glorious  to  die  for  their  country.  Though  the  hands 
which  grasped  the  sword  are  now  stiff,  though  the  eyes 
which  once  flashed  with  patriotic  fervor  are  now  closed, 
though  the  ears  which  caught  the  first  signal  of  the  ad- 
vancing foe  are  forever  shut, — their  lofty  spirit  of  patriot- 
ism can  never  expire.  Their  fidelity,  courage,  brave  en- 
deavors, and  self-sacrifice  shall  live  forever. 

"  They  shall  resist  the  empire  of  decay, 
When  time  is  o'er  and  worlds  have  passed  away; 
Cold  in  the  dust  the  perished  heart  may  lie, 
But  that  which  warmed  it  once  can  never  die." 

This  festival  memory,  of  love,  of  truth,  reminds  us 
of  the  undying  devotion  to  Liberty  which  animated  the 
souls  of  the  illustrious  dead.  It  was  the  thrilling  and  mo- 
mentous cry  of  Freedom  endangered  that  caused  every 
light  to  burn  with  beacon  fires.  It  was  love  of  Liberty 
which  inspired  your  fathers,  husbands,  brothers,  sons,  to 
face,  with  the  composure  of  a  summer's  rain,  the  red  hail 
of  death.  For  six  thousand  years  tyrants  have  tried  to 
crush  it  out  of  the  hearts  of  humanity.  Their  fagots, 
their  inquisitions,  their  star  chambers  have  been  in  vain. 
The  half  million  of  patriot  soldiers  who  died  during  the 
war  splendidly  vindicated  the  growth  of  Liberty  against 
dungeons,  bayonets,  starvation,  and  the  battalions  of 
slavery.  Our  gallant  brothers  were  driven  to  starvation 
and  death.  But  there  was  one  blazing  torch  which  could 
not  be  driven  away,  which  the  prisons,  the  graves,  and 
oppressions  of  the  Confederates  could  not  extinguish. 
It  was  lit  when  the  sun  darkened  over  Calvary.  The 
battle-fields  of  the  South  flowed  with  the  blood  of  the 
men  in  blue;  but  the  immortal  spirit  of  Liberty  wafted 
the  red  surge  and  foam,  pointing  the  sinking  spirit  to 
eternal  rest.  When  the  flag  of  Washington,  the  illumi- 
nated scripture  of  the  Nation,  was  assailed,  a  million  men, 
with  the  love  of  Liberty  in  their  hearts,  shouldered  their 
muskets.  Noble  and  elect  women,  with  tears  in  their 
eyes,  glowing  with  sacred  enthusiasm,  standing  on  their 


APPENDIX.  433 

thresholds,  imparted  their  farewell  benedictions.  In  the 
name,  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  a  charge,  a  grand  charge, 
was  made  for  Liberty,  dear  Liberty — lovely  and  sacra- 
mental as  heaven's  wide  rainbow !  Liberty,  God's  best 
and  costliest  blessing !  Liberty,  the  oppressed's  last  and 
fondest  hope !  Liberty,  the  world's  crowning  and  eternal 
triumph !  Liberty,  for  which  -Emmet  proudly  mounted 
the  scaffold !  Liberty,  for  which  Henry  pleaded !  Lib- 
erty, for  which  Warren,  Montgomery,  and  Pulaski  died ! 
It  was  the  last  word  stammered  by  the  dying  soldier  as 
the  heavens  opened  to  receive  him.  And  so  upon  this 
day  of  grace  we  go  forth  to  celebrate  with  music,  poetry, 
eloquence,  art,  orations,  and  monuments  the -sacred  mem- 
ories of  heroes  and  martyrs  to  whose  dazzling  deaths  in 
the  blaze  of  war  a  mighty  nation  owes  its  existence. 

This  beautiful  festival  also  reminds  us  of  the  match- 
less patriotism  of  the  people !  Patriotism  is  a  term  sug- 
gestive of  the  most  charming  memories.  It  is  invested 
with  the  rich  and  warm  associations  of  that  holy  spot 
that  sheltered  us  in  infancy,  and  where  we  imbibed  and 
exchanged  some  of  the  purest  charities  of  the  heart.  Dy- 
nasties may  change,  governments  may  be  swept  away; 
but  love  of  fatherland  will  be  as  tender  in  the  world's 
gray  age  as  in  its  primeval  morning.  What  can  be  sweeter 
in  its  pathos  than  Virgil's  tender  sketch  of  Andromache 
flying  from  the  wrath  of  gods  and  men,  and  building  up 
in  her  new  land  a  little  image  of  her  ancestral  city  of 
Ilium?  Lord  Byron,  the  greatest  poet  of  the  English 
tongue,  in  his  splendid  tragedy  of  the  "Two  Foscari," 
illustrates  this  principle.  How  often  has  the  American, 
wandering  over  the  earth,  said  with  poor  Jacopo : 

"  Ah  !  you  never  yet 
Were  far  away  from  Venice,  never  saw 
Her  beautiful  towers  in  the  receding  distance, 
Whilst  every  furrow  of  the  vessel's  track 
Seemed  plowing  into  your  heart ;  you  never 
Saw  day  go  down  upon  your  native  spires, 
So  calmly  in  its  old  and  crimson  glory, 
And  after  dreaming  a  disturbed  vision 
28  Of  them  and  theirs,  awoke  and  found  it  not." 


434  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

The  Poles  never  forget  their  own  beautiful  land. 
They  cling  to  it  with  a  rare  and  heroic  devotion. 
Through  the  broad  streets  of  London  they  followed  the 
hearse  of  Thomas  Campbell,  and  when  he  was  entombed 
they  threw  upon  his  grave  some  holy  clay  brought  from 
the  fields  of  the  Vistula.  It  is  a  tribute  not  less  sacred 
than  the  wedding  ring  to  the  genius  which  gave  voice 
to  the  dreams,  the  great  conspiracies  for  Freedom  which, 
for  centuries,  had  made  Poland  the  worthiest  of  the 
European  nations.  How  grand  the  patriotism  of  our 
own  American  citizens!  Never  on  our  soil  was  there  a 
prouder  day.  The  march  of  the  thousands  to  the  seat 
of  war  was  a  passage  in  our  history  never  to  be  forgotten. 
Glorious  patriots,  your  bodies  were  the  illustrious  and 
adamantine  rock  against  which  the  overwhelming  surges 
of  treason  dashed  in  vain !  All  classes  responded  with 
lavish  enthusiasm  to  the  bugle  call.  Democrats  and  Re- 
publicans, natives,  adopted  citizens,  Catholics  and  Protest- 
ants, fought  with  equal  desperation.  They  stood  together 
in  the  same  field  of  death;  they  scaled  the  same  battle- 
ments; they  advanced  in  the  same  forlorn  hope;  and,  to 
use  the  fine  expression  of  a  gifted  poet,  they  looked 
proudly  to  heaven. 

This  fraternity  of  nationalities  suggested  to  the  poet 
Scanlon  the  following  spirited  lines: 

"  Comrades  !  around  our  campfires  bright, 

Here's  to  our  starry  banner, 
That  flies  across  the  brow  of  night, — 

God's  choicest  blessings  fan  her ; 
And  while  men  worship  Freedom's  name, 

They  '11  man  each  deck  and  cannon, 
And  fight  for  Freedom  all  the  same, 

By  Hudson,  Rhine,  and  Shannon." 

In  the  grand  armies  of  the  Union  might  be  seen  a 
picture  worthy  of  transference  to  the  imperishable  page 
by  Prescott's  luminous  pen !  There  were  the  woodsmen 
of  Maine,  the  raftsmen  of  upper  Mississippi,  the  farmer 
boys  of  Vermont  and  Wisconsin,  the  factory  hands  of 


APPENDIX.  435 

Massachusetts,  the  mechanics  of  New  York,  the  miners 
of  Pennsylvania  and  Illinois,  the  flower  and  chivalry  of 
Ohio,  and  amidst  this  brilliant  gathering  were  the  laugh- 
ing voices,  the  kindling  eyes  of  Erin's  sons,  and  the  Ger- 
mans. 

They  marched  to  the  music  of  the  Union,  as  it  swelled 
forth  in  the  grand  measure  of  "Hail  Columbia."  They 
victoriously  carried  the  ark  of  the  American  covenant 
through  the  fire  and  tempest  of  war,  expanding  the  dome 
of  the  temple  of  Liberty,  perfecting  it,  and  leaving  it  erect, 
stately,  august,  and  adored. 

We  are  reminded  by  this  sacred  festival  of  the  splen- 
did bravery  of  our  dead  comrades.  Their  courage  is  the 
admiration  of  the  world.  Infinitely  bright  are  the  halos 
of  glory  which  encircle  the  brows  of  these  triumphant 
warriors  of  Freedom.  They  marched  to  every  battle  with 
high-crested  spirits,  and  everywhere  came  out  of  it 
adorned  with  the  superior  wreath  of  valor  and  morality. 
When  the  lightning  of  war  gave  place  to  the  divine  branch 
of  peace  these  merchants,  farmers,  lawyers,  mechanics, 
ministers,  returned  to  their  former  pursuits. 

I  wish  to  pay  a  tribute  to  those  noble  women  who 
gave  their  husbands,  brothers,  and  sons  in  defense  of  a 
Nation's  life.  Cornelia,  the  Spartan  mother  of  fifteen  sons, 
gave  them  to  the  cause  of  her  country,  saying,  as  she 
placed  her  hands  upon  their  heads,  "Dear  to  me  are  these, 
my  children,  dear  to  me  are  the  fruits  of  my  home;  but 
my  country  is  dearer  than  they."  So  American  mothers 
laid  their  hands  upon  their  sons'  heads  and  said,  "Though 
they  are  dear  to  me,  my  country  is  dearer  than  all."  God 
bless  the  American  women  and  mothers!  All  over  the 
Union  to-day  there  are  women  giving  their  time  and 
flowers  to  deck  the  soldiers'  graves. 

While  decorating  the  graves  of  the  Boys  in  Blue,  do 
not  forget  to  drop  a  tear  of  sympathy  into  the  graves  of 
the  Southern  soldiers.  They  proved  themselves  the  most 
masterly  revolutionists  of  the  age!  They  were  Amer- 
icans and  heroic,  though  mistaken,  men.  Sprung  from 
the  same  stock,  trusting:  in  the  same  redemption,  believ- 


436  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

ing  in  the  same  God,  and  candidates  for  the  same  immor- 
tality,— they  were  our  brothers.  Now  that  the  war  is 
over,  let  their  errors  and  follies  be  buried  out  of  sight 
forever.  Nature  draws  no  distinction  between  the  Gray 
and  Blue.  The  grass  is  as  green  and  the  sun  shines  as 
brightly  over  their  graves  as  over  ours. 

The  spirit  of  democratic  government  is  everywhere 
in  the  ascendant.  Nation  is  answering  unto  nation.  The 
elder  world  is  enacting  dramas  more  brilliant  than  any 
ever  produced  by  stage  or  canvas.  The  very  Cossack 
has  caught  the  sacred  contagion,  and  has  become  the 
champion  of  the  oppressed.  Turkey,  that  lair  of  savages 
and  laboratory  of  assassins,  is  doomed.  God-speed  the 
Czar !  I  kiss  the  hem  of  his  garment.  I  bid  you  hearken 
to  the  funeral  knell  of  the  Turk,  the  tolling  out  of  the 
message  that  his  destruction  is  near!  The  night  of  Mo- 
hammedanism, which  has  blasted  the  fairest  portions  of 
Europe,  is  far  spent.  Already  the  Russian  cavalry  are 
watering  their  horses  in  the  sacred  waters  of  the  Ganges ! 
The  tinge  of  gold  on  the  mountains  of  a  long-oppressed 
world  marks  the  coming  of  the  Sun  in  his  strength.  I 
hail  as  the  dawning  of  truth,  the  awakening  of  the  masses 
from  their  long  sleep,  the  coronation  of  liberty  and  the 
glimpse  of  blue  through  the  dark  thick  cloud.  The  spirit 
has  gone  forth !  -  It  is  the  resolve  of  a  great  and  outraged 
people,  uttering  the  accents  of  freedom  in  a  strain  of 
majesty.  Its  echoes  roll  from  hill  to  hill,  catching  the 
response  from  every  heart  till  in  the  swell  of  its  mighty 
volume  it  shall  awaken  the  supine  and  arouse  the  dor- 
mant energies  of  millions.  Gladly  would  we  see  Liberty 
crowned  in  every  land.  Gladly  would  we  see  it  in  Ger- 
many. Gladly  would  we  see  it  more  prevalent  in  France — 
in  France,  made  gay  by  nature  and  reflective  by  seven 
heroic  revolutions  against  despotism !  Gladly  would  we 
see  it  combined  with  the  pure  and  lofty  enthusiasm  of 
Spain — Spain,  as  it  shall  be  when  governed  by  her  great 
souled  Castelar!  Gladly  would  we  see  it  in  England, 
when  the  men  of  England — Bright,  Dilke,  Mill,  and  other 
such  shining  advocates  of  humanity — shall  control  the 


APPENDIX,  437 

destiny  of  that  once  mighty  empire !  Gladly  would  we  see 
it  in  Ireland;  and  on  the  ruins  of  her  desecrated  and  dis- 
mantled temple  of  1782,  a  glorious  edifice  arising,  a 
temple  of  independence,  of  freedom,  and  of  peace !  Then 
the  graves  of  her  murdered  patriots  would  become  the 
stepping-stones  to  immortality!  Gladly  would  we  see 
the  splendid  combinations  of  nationality,  freedom,  jus- 
tice, blending  with  the  peculiar  characteristics  of  every 
nation  on  the  earth,  and  the  triumphs  of  republicanism 
announced  in  more  languages  than  have  ever  been  enu- 
merated by  a  Barring  or  a  Barritt. 

Though  thirty-six  years  have  rolled  into  eternity  since 
I  was  at  old  Camp  Meigs,  I  am  still  the  same  as  when, 
in  the  morning  of  life,  I  left  the  spot  that  sheltered  me 
in  infancy  and  bore  me  across  the  waves.  Still  the  same 
as  I  was  when  for  the  first  time  I  looked  with  admiration 
and  wonder  upon  the  handsome  cities,  the  merchant 
princes  covering  the  Atlantic  with  their  fleets;  the  stately 
buildings  and  grand  opportunities  of  this  magnificent 
Republic.  Still  the  same  as  when,  in  the  earlier  years  of 
my  ministry,  I  commenced  my  work  of  a  Methodist 
preacher  in  your  section.  I  miss  the  kindly  hand  and 
hearty  welcome  of  many  old  friends — Judge  Patrick, 
Simpson,  Harmount,  and  others.  Still  the  same  as  when 
the  bugle  call  to  arms  rang  in  my  ears,  and  I  preached 
a  war  sermon  and  a  hundred  noble  men  responded.  Still 
the  same  as  when,  with  the  gallant  Bartilson  and  Robin- 
son, I  invoked  the  young  Democrats  and  the  young  Re- 
publicans of  the  country,  and  when,  amidst  the  thrilling 
acclamations  of  hundreds,  we  marched  through  the  streets 
of  New  Philadelphia  to  the  war  for  the  Union.  Still  the 
same  as  though  no  hopes  had  fallen  like  withered  leaves ; 
as  though  no  star  had  fallen  from  the  heavens  to  which 
I  looked;  as  though  my  home  had  not  been  a  vacant 
place,  voiceless,  lampless,  and  hung  with  mourning;  the 
same  as  when  joining  with  the  surging  chorus  I  called 
the  patriotic  young  men  of  this  and  adjoining  counties 
to  arms,  and  from  arms  to  liberty. 

I  might  say  to  you,  in  conclusion,  what  a  great  poet 


438  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

makes  Antony  say  of  Caesar  when  he  pointed  to  the 
wounds  that  had  been  inflicted  on  the  Emperor's  body, 
"Show  you  sweet  Caesar's  wounds,  poor  dumb  mouths." 
So  the  dumb  mouths  of  the  dead  conquerors  of  the  Amer- 
ican Republic  have  each  a  tongue,  and  plead  with  pierc- 
ing and  prevailing  eloquence  for  the  fine  and  magnificent 
country  in  whose  behalf  they  perished,  and  which  they 
loved  so  well.  If  I  could  call  up  to  your  view  our  glo- 
rious dead;  if  I  could  crowd  these  sacred  grounds  with 
the  forms  of  those  who  in  the  somber  years  of  war  made 
a  rampart  of  their  bodies  against  the  encroachments  of 
slavery  and  secession, — with  what  awe  and  veneration 
would  you  gaze  on  the  noble  army  of  martyrs!  How 
would  you  gather  fresh  strength  and  patriotism  from  be- 
holding Lincoln,  McPherson,  Mulligan,  Ellsworth,  in 
withstanding  every  national  sin  which  gave  to  death  so 
illustrious  a  group !  I  know  that  their  beautiful  memo- 
ries wake  the  pulse  of  a  holy  love  of  country,  and  that 
the  breathing  of  their  names,  like  the  trumpet  peal  of 
a  righteous  war,  sends  the  throb  of  a  high  resolve 
throughout  this  brilliant  assembly!  Now,  as  you  look 
on  this  stirring  spectacle,  breathe  forth  a  prayer  as  fervent 
as  any  that  ever  passed  from  your  heart  for  the  land  of 
Washington,  that  the  wrongs  of  the  oppressed  may  be 
redressed;  that  the  soldiers'  widows  and  orphans  may 
be  cared  for  with  no  niggardly  hand;  that  the  ports  may 
open  their  gates;  that  the  rusted  machinery  of  toiling 
millions,  the  steel  armor  of  civilization,  may  once  more 
beat  with  the  vitality  of  trade;  that  temples  of  industry 
and  religion  may  rise  amidst  the  wastes  of  war;  that  the 
lofty  principles  of  equal  and  civil  rights  may  continue  in 
every  section  of  the  Union  as  long  as  the  sun  endures; 
that  the  deadly  art  of  war  may  give  place  to  the  gentler 
arts  of  peace;  that  American  freedom  may  yet  strike  off 
the  world's  chains;  and  that  the  future  of  the  United 
States,  the  country  of  our  birth  and  adoption  and  love, 
may  be  coeval  with  the  advent  grandeur  of  the  Son  of 
God! 


APPENDIX.  439 


THE  TRUE  GRANDEUR  OF  A  NATION. 

BY  REV.  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER,  CHAPLAIN  40x11  U.  S.  I.,  DELIVERED 
AT  RALEIGH,  NORTH  CAROLINA,  ON  JULY  4,  1867. 

MY  COUNTRYMEN, — This  is  indeed  a  brilliant  and 
beautiful  scene.  This  is  a  propitious  and  consecrated  day. 
The  summer  sun  in  its  journey  to  the  west  looks  on  no 
more  impressive  sight;  on  no  grander  spectacle.  Why 
have  assembled  here  in  the  shadow  of  these  stately  oaks, 
gallant  men  and  fair  wonien — the  hope  and  struggle,  the 
glory  and  the  joy  of  life?  Should  a  stranger  viewing  this 
grand  assemblage  ask,  "Why  is  all  this  enthusiasm?  why 
these  splendid  banners  floating  in  the  breeze?"  we  would 
tell  him  that  the  loyal  masses  of  North  Carolina  were  met 
to  celebrate  the  most  august  event  which  ever  constituted 
an  epoch  in  the  political  annals  of  mankind ;  not  to  cele- 
brate the  birthday  of  a  despot,  but  the  birthday  of  a  great 
Nation.  No  thunder  of  cannon,  no  roll  of  drums,  no 
blare  of  trumpets,  no  empty  pageant  of  regal  grandeur, 
summons  us  hither.  How  simple,  how  sacred,  how  sub- 
lime is  the  occasion  of  our  meeting!  The  impressive 
prayer  that  the  God  of  our  fathers  would  be  with  us; 
the  public  reading  of  the  great  charter,  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  which  has  given  a  radiant  immortality  to 
the  day;  the  enthusiasm  of  this  vast  multitude;  the  in- 
spiring strains  of  patriotic  music;  the  presence  of  gal- 
lant men  and  women, — all  these  delightful  surroundings 
combine  to  clothe  this  anniversary  with  grace  and 
splendor. 

All  over  the  earth  to-day,  over  the  North  and  South, 
on  mountains  and  on  plains,  among  the  poor  and  the  rich, 
the  natives  of  Columbia  and  the  friends  of  liberty  hang 
out  their  banners — the  Stars  and  Stripes — hold  high  festi- 
val, and  renew  their  recollections  of  the  land  of  Washing- 
ton, now  made  doubly  dear  and  sacred  to  them  because  it 
is  the  resting-place  of  the  great  and  good  Abraham  Lin- 
coln. Good  man,  he  now  sleeps  in  the  grandeur  of  eternal 


440  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

peace.  Honor  to  his  beautiful  memory!  Americans 
everywhere  at  this  hour  are  celebrating,  amid  the  roar  of 
cannon  and  the  pealing  of  cathedral  bells,  not  only  the 
deeds  of  our  Revolutionary  fathers,  but  the  greater  glories 
of  the  last  few  years.  By  the  St.  Lawrence,  by  the  Hud- 
son, by  the  Thames,  by  the  Mississippi,  by  the  Ganges, 
by  the  Nile,  by  the  golden  shores  of  the  Bosphorus — as 
well  as  on  the  banks  of  the  Liffey,  the  Shannon,  the  Bar- 
row, and  the  Suir — there  is  good  cheer  to-day,  a  feast 
of  reason  and  a  flow  of  soul ;  one  voice  and  one  heart 
animate  the  citizens  of  this  bounteous  land.  This  is  the 
holiday  of  the  \vhole  Nation.  We  find  monumental  struc- 
tures raised  to  enliven  the  patriotic  virtues  of  nations. 
The  patriarchal  pillars  of  stone,  and  the  Pythian,  Nemean, 
Isthmian,  and  Olympic  games  were  institutions  of  this 
character.  The  various  feasts  of  the  Jews  were  the  evi- 
dences of  this  principle.  To  those  established  by  God 
they  added  a  feast  of  the  dedication  of  the  Temple  and 
also  the  Feast  of  Purim,  to  commemorate  their  wonderful 
deliverances.  Mark,  too,  the  Heaven-ordained  ordinances 
of  the  Israelitish  Passover  and  the  Christian  Eucharist ! 
Like  a  blazing  line  of  fire,  they  perpetuate  through  all 
time  the  infinite  condescension  of  God.  And  so  it  is  in 
regard  to  this  festive,  joyful,  glorious  day.  The  4th  of 
July,  1861,  beheld  the  hardy  sons  of  the  North  and  South 
brightening  their  armor  for  the  combat.  Their  battle- 
ground was  a  continent,  their  audience  was  the  world. 
The  4th  of  July,  1862,  found  the  North  in  mourning  over 
the  slain  of  the  Chickahominy,  the  South  rejoicing  in  suc- 
cess. The  4th  of  July,  1863,  and  the  North  had  shattered 
into  atoms  the  legions  of  the  South  at  Vicksburg  and 
Gettysburg.  On  the  Nation's  birthday,  1864,  both  sec- 
tions were  ready  for  the  final  struggle.  Ere  another 
anniversary,  the  North  is  victorious,  the  South  is  van- 
quished, democracy  and  freedom  have  triumphed,  rebel- 
lion and  slavery  have  died. 

I  need  not  review  the  struggle  which  preceded  and 
succeeded  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Your  own 
minds  are  familiar  with  the  terrible  privations  of  the  Revo- 


APPENDIX.  441 

lutionary  soldiers,  who,  amid  the  snows  of  Virginia  win- 
ters, amid  the  deadly  malaria  of  the  Carolina  swamps, 
amid  the  bleak  winds  that  sweep  our  ocean  shore,  amid 
the  deadly  heats  of  the  Mississippi,  confronted  the  merce- 
nary men,  butchers  of  Brunswick,  and  the  ingenious  mas- 
ters of  the  scalping-knife  and  tomahawk  from  the  banks 
of  the  St.  Lawrence. 

See  these  undaunted  patriots  in  their  obscure  caucus 
gatherings,  in  their  town  meetings,  in  their  provincial 
assemblies,  in  their  Continental  Congress,  breathing  de- 
fiance to  the  British  Parliament  and  the  British  throne, 
marching  with  their  raw,  militia  to  the  conflict  with  the 
trained  veterans  of  the  Seven  Years'  War.  Witness  there 
a  group  of  Colonies,  extemporized  into  a  Confederacy, 
entering  with  a  calm  self-possession  into  alliance  with  the 
oldest  monarchy  of  Europe,  occupying  as  they  did  a  nar- 
row belt  of  territory  along  the  coast,  thinly  peopled,  par- 
tially cleared,  hemmed  in  by  the  native  savages,  by  the 
Alleghanies,  by  the  Ohio,  and  the  Lakes  behind  them, 
dilating  with  the  grandeur  of  the  position,  radiant  in  the 
prospective  glories  of  their  career.  Contemplate  this,  as 
Everett  truly  says,  and  you  will  acknowledge  the  men 
of  Seventy-six  to  have  been  the  noblest  men  of  progress 
the  world  has  ever  seen. 

We  commemorate,  in  the  first  place,  the  greatness  of 
our  physical  and  territorial  advantages.  In  the  perform- 
ance of  this  sacred  duty  we  have  an  illustrious  model ;  for 
we  find  that  Moses,  when  viewing  the  promised  land,  de- 
scribed it  as  a  good  land;  a  land  of  brooks,  of  depths,%that 
spring  out  of  valleys  and  hills;  a  land  of  oil,  olive,  and 
honey.  Israel  is  compared  to  a  valley  full  of  fertility,  and 
watered  by  unfailing  streams;  to  a  garden  by  the  side  of 
rivers,  covered  with  beauty  and  luxuriance,  and  sustained 
in  perpetual  fertility,  a  forest  in  which  the  trees  are  planted 
by  God;  to  the  lion  which,  ever  cunning,  no  hunter  can 
approach,  but  which  terrifies  the  forest.  All  of  which 
images,  though  they  may  not  affect  us,  yet  to  the  Eastern 
imagination  unquestionably  conveyed  ideas  of  exquisite 
loveliness,  the  most  extraordinary  power,  and  the  most 


44 2  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

singular  fertility.  In  like  manner  we  American  citizens 
might  speak  of  the  peerless  position,  of  the  rich  variety  of 
plain,  hill,  and  dale;  of  our  productions,  so  varied,  so 
abundant,  so  valuable;  of  our  lakes,  rivers,  mountains, 
prairies ;  of  our  cities,  in  wealth,  population,  and  in  mag- 
nificence rivaling  the  oldest  in  the  world.  Where 
throughout  the  wide-extended  globe  is  there  a  country 
more  blessed  by  all  the  gifts  of  nature  than  our  own? 
Columbia  is  a  grand  and  beautiful  country — a  land  of 
unexampled  fertility — traversed  with  wonder  by  the 
stranger  who  sees  tract  after  tract  of  cultivated  ground, 
like  one  vast  garden,  courting  his  gaze  in  every  direction. 
The  immigrations  to  the  United  States  are  without  paral- 
lel in  the  history  of  the  world.  From  every  nation  they 
are  flocking  to  the  West.  They  come, 

"  As  the  winds  come,  when  forests  are  rended  ; 
They  come  as  the  waves  come,  when  navies  are  stranded." 

If  the  ratios  of  our  past  increase  can  be  relied  on, 
the  population  of  the  country  will  be,  in  1930,  more  than 
one  hundred  millions.  A  step  further  in  the  calculation 
presents  a  prospect  still  more  sublime  and  wonderful.  In 
1960  this  mighty  mass  of  commingled  races  will  have 
swollen  to  the  stupendous  aggregate  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  millions,  one-fourth  the  present  population  of  all  the 
earth.  Where  is  that  prodigious  increase  of  numbers, 
this  vast  extension  of  emigration,  to  end?  Where  will  its 
mighty  boundaries  terminate?  They  will  crowd  each 
hemisphere,  they  will  spurn  both  tropics.  Its  watch- 
towers  will  shine  on  every  shore,  and  be  reflected  back 
from  every  deep.  Nature  has  set  no  bounds  to  the  round 
growth  of  this  mighty  Republic — a  new  world,  swelling 
upwards,  cradling  all  the  arts  of  life,  and  inviting  rapid 
immigrations.  Ours  is,  indeed,  a  wonderful  country — 
vast  in  the  immense  extent  of  its  territory,  vast  in  the 
magnificent  scale  and  grandeur  of  its  scenery,  vast  in  the 
unparalleled  riches  of  mineral  resources,  vast  in  its  ma- 
jestic rivers  and  lofty  mountains.  We  realize  on  an  ex- 


READY  TO  DESCEND  INTO  THE  MINE. 


APPENDIX.  443 

traordinary  scale  the  splendid  description  of  the  orna- 
mental edging  of  the  buckler  of  Achilles: 

"  Now  the  broad  shield  complete,  the  artist  crowned 
With  his  last  hand,  and  poured  the  ocean  round ; 
In  living  silver  seemed  the  waves  to  roll, 
And  beat  the  buckler's  verge  and  bound  the  whole." 

There  may  be  other  countries  where  more  of  physical 
beauty  and  variety  charms  the  eye  than  in  America ;  where 
less  of  variableness  and  gloom  marks  the  atmosphere; 
where  softer  gales  fan  and  sweeter  flowers  perfume ;  where 
more  enameled  meads  display  themselves,  and  more  me- 
lodious waterfalls  murmur  on  the  ear;  where  more  of  the 
luxuriance  of  nature  is  blended  with  a  greater  triumph 
of  art;  and  where,  more  glorious  skies  and  constant 
weather  bestow  elasticity  and  health  to  the  human  frame. 
And  there  may  be  lands  where  the  stream  of  philosophy 
has  a  wider  sweep  and  deeper  flow;  where  learning  finds 
more  devoted  adherents;  and  where  liberty,  at  least  in 
theory,  is  more  highly  prized.  But  there  is  no  other  land, 
in  either  hemisphere,  which,  on  the  whole,  can  vie  with 
Columbia.  She  stands,  as  she  has  long  stood,  the  fairest 
form  of  Government  ever  known  on  earth. 

We  commemorate  also  to-day  the  civil  and  religious 
liberty  so  largely  enjoyed  by  the  American  people.  There 
are  two  different  and  somewhat  inconsistent  notions  of 
liberty  prevailing  in  the  world,  of  which  one  is  of  Greek 
and  the  other  Teutonic  origin.  According  to  the  first, 
liberty  consists  in  a  share  in  the  Government,  while  the 
Government  itself  demands  from  the  individual  the  most 
implicit  obedience  to  its  laws;  in  fact,  according  to  this 
theory,  the  subject  was  absorbed  in  the  State.  The  work- 
ing out  of  this  principle  in  its  extreme  results  has  been 
seen  in  Sparta  and  in  the  ancient  Greek  and  Italian  Re- 
publics. This  notion  was  carried  into  Gaul  by  the  Roman 
Colonies,  and  enters  largely  into  that  French  idea  of  lib- 
erty which  is  connected  with  submission  to  an  absolute 
Emperor.  The  Teutonic  idea  of  liberty,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  that  of  freedom  in  individual  action.  That  is  the 


444  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

best  Government,  according  to  this  idea,  which  governs 
the  least.  It  was  this  idea  of  liberty  which  inspired  our  pa- 
triotic fathers  to  raise  the  standard  of  revolt,  and  enabled 
them  successfully  to  defy  the  licentious  legions  of  Eng- 
land. Liberty  is,  then,  the  power  of  acting  according  to 
our  own  will,  and  on  our  own  convictions,  in  any  manner 
not  inconsistent  with  the  interests  and  well-being  of  the 
community  to  which  we  belong,  without  hindrance  and 
without  injury  either  from  the  public  laws  or  from  the 
passions  of  individual  men.  The  history  of  the  race  pre- 
sents but  one  long  record  of  efforts  to  secure  this  price- 
less and  splendid  boon.  It  is  the  darling  theme  of  every 
freeborn  man.  To  procure  it,  thousands  have  died  on  the 
battle-field;  to  maintain  and  preserve  it,  thousands  more 
have  bled  upon  the  scaffold. 

The  watchword,  Freedom  endangered,  inspires  hero- 
ism in  every  heart,  nerves  every  patriot  to  gird  himself 
for  the  battle,  and  causes  every  height  to  flame  with  its 
beacon-fires.  The  most  brilliant  epochs  of  nations  are 
the  heroic  struggles  in  behalf  of  civil  and  religious  liberty. 
The  grandest  efforts  of  mind,  the  noblest  achievements  of 
arms,  the  most  sublime  ministrations  of  charity  that  have 
adorned  and  illustrated  the  history  of  our  race,  have  all 
sprung  from  this  principle.  Liberty  is  the  very  fairest 
flower  that  can  grow  upon  the  soil  of  nations. 

Columbia's  greatest  glory  does  not  consist  in  her  po- 
litical economy;  in  the  number  of  her  ships  floating  on 
the  ocean, — her  greatest  glory  is  civil  and  religious  lib- 
erty. It  is  our  inheritance  to  an  extent  and  with  a  secur- 
ity which  we  believe  to  be  utterly  unparalleled  in  the  his- 
tory of  former  times.  The  heresy  of  secession,  which 
sought  to  overturn  this  liberty,  is  the  adversary  of  God 
and  of  man,  the  murderer  of  all  virtue,  the  parent  and 
nurse  of  impurity  and  vice,  the  progress  of  which  can 
only  be  traced  in  pollution  and  blood,  and  the  triumph 
of  which  can  be  celebrated  only  over  the  utter  wreck  and 
ruin  of  all  that  is  dear  and  dignified  and  holy,  alike  in  the 
life  that  now  is,  and  also  in  the  life  that  is  to  come.  If  the 
legal  right  of  secession  had  existed,  it  was  a  crime, 


APPENDIX.  445 

morally,  to  have  exerted  it  at  such  a  time.  Our  national 
prosperity  exceeded  that  of  any  other  people.  What  a 
grand  spectacle  did  we  present  to  the  nations!  A  great 
people,  governing  themselves  by  their  own  laws ;  increas- 
ing in  all  the  elements  of  national  grandeur.  How  re- 
markable was  the  character  of  our  Government  then, 
when  compared  with  the  most  enlightened  countries  of 
Europe!  Take,  for  example,  England.  This  Govern- 
ment is  said  to  be  the  most  advanced  in  civilization  of  any 
of  the  monarchies. 

Facts  are  more  valuable  than  arguments: 
United  States,  the  supreme  power  in  a  Constitution 
clearly  defined  by  a  written  instrument;  England,  the 
supreme  power  in  a  queen,  lords,  and  Commons,  defined 
by  the  laws  of  Parliament.  United  States,  the  executive 
power  in  a  President,  elected  every  four  years,  having  a 
salary  of  $25,000;  England,  the  king  or  queen,  hereditary, 
with  an  annual  salary  of  $3,500,000.  United  States,  sena- 
tors chosen  every  six  years  by  the  States  from  the  masses 
of  the  citizens;  England,  House  of  Lords,  composed  of 
the  hereditary  nobility,  appointed  by  the  sovereign. 
United  States,  representatives  elected  every  two  years, 
directly  by  the  people;  England,  House  of  Commons, 
elected  during  the  sovereign's  pleasure  by  privileged  bor- 
oughs. United  States,  the  Church  distinct  from  the  State, 
and  wholly  dependent  upon  the  voluntary  support  of  the 
people ;  England,  the  Church  incorporated  with  the  State, 
independent  of  the  voluntary  support  of  the  people,  and 
the  clergy  enjoying  revenues  varying  from  $150  to 
$150,000  each  annually.  United  States,  the  municipal 
laws  of  the  country  enacted  by  State  Legislatures,  entirely 
distinct  from  the  General  Government,  the  members  of 
which  are  chosen  by  the  people,  according  to  State  con- 
stitutions; England,  the  municipal  as  well  as  other  laws 
are  enacted  by  the  Parliament,  in  which  the  people  are 
only  partially  represented.  United  States,  all  the  people 
on  an  equality,  in  regard  to  power,  privileges,  and  dis- 
tinction; England,  the  Executive  and  senators  irrespon- 
sible to  the  people,  having  interests  adverse  to  them. 


446  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

United  States,  the  Executive,  senators,  and  representa- 
tives responsible  to  the  people,  from  whom  they  are  taken, 
and  to  whom  they  speedily  return,  and  with  whom  they 
have  an  identity  of  interest.  United  States,  the  income 
of  the  people  free  from  compulsory  taxation  for  religion; 
England,  the  income  of  the  people  taxed  for  the  support 
of  that  gigantic  swindle,  the  Established  Church.  United 
States,  land  and  wealth  generally  equally  distributed 
amongst  all  classes,  and  no  law  to  perpetuate  them  in  the 
hands  of  a  few;  England,  land  and  wealth  generally  con- 
fined to  the  aristocracy,  and  laws  made  to  perpetuate  them 
in  the  hands  of  a  few  families.  United  States,  a  tendency 
on  the  part  of  the  Government  to  place  every  man  on  the 
same  level;  England,  a  tendency  of  the  Government  to 
make  distinctions  among  the  people,  and  to  separate  class 
from  class,  and  laws  enacted  to  maintain  such  distinctions. 

Taxation  in  England  on  every  article  is  fourteen  times 
as  heavy,  and  on  many  enormously  higher  than  in  the 
United  States. 

It  is  no  vain  or  arrogant  boast  which  assigns  to  Co- 
lumbia the  first  rank  amidst  States  and  Empires.  I  love 
this  Government.  I  love  it  in  its  origin.  I  love  it  in  its 
supremacy.  I  love  it  in  its  individuality.  I  love  it  in  its 
personal  power.  I  love  it  in  its  determination  and  will. 
It  seems  to  me  to  have  gathered  the  gems  from  all  regions 
to  make  this  new,  last  crown  of  a  great  Republic.  One 
of  the  greatest  difficulties  in  other  nations  is  found  in  the 
impediments  to  the  general  diffusion  of  knowledge.  Edu- 
cation here  is  free.  In  the  United  States  there  are  over 
two  hundred  colleges,  from  which  issue  4,000  students 
annually.  The  annual  expense  for  instruction,  including 
board,  is  $150  yearly.  In  England  there  are  few  colleges, 
in  which  the  expenses  average  $800  per  annum.  The 
people  of  this  country  voluntarily  spend  forty  millions  of 
dollars  to  sustain  education  and  religion.  We  publish 
1,900  newspapers — more  than  150  daily.  The  number 
of  newspapers  and  periodicals  published  in  this  country 
exceed  the  number  published  in  all  Europe,  which,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  population,  gives  the  people  of  the  United 


APPENDIX.  447 

States  an  advantage  of  thirteen  to  one.  Let  the  stranger 
appear  when  he  may  in  all  this  land,  he  will  never  get  be- 
yond the  pale  of  rational  information. 

We  commemorate,  also,  the  grand  patriotism  of  the 
loyal  people  of  the  North  and  South. 

The  American  heart  goes  out  with  the  rapturous  lan- 
guage of  the  Scottish  bard : 

"  Breathes  there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 
This  is  my  own,  my  native  land?" 

Columbia,  the  fairest  and  youngest  member  of  the 
great  family  of  nations,  seemed  dying.  The  kings  were 
rejoicing  over  the  prospective  downfall  of  their  only  rival, 
and  the  brilliant  pen  of  Bulwer,  deeply  dipped  in  gall,  was 
recording  the  failure  of  the  great  democratic  Nation. 
But,  blessed  be  God,  the  stalwart,  young  empire  did  not 
die.  The  trumpet  sounded,  and  a  wild  and  unprecedented 
feeling  of  patriotism  dashed  through  the  masses  of  the 
people,  which  nothing  could  stop.  The  force  of  that  sub- 
lime enthusiasm  nothing  could  measure. 

Hark!  what  wild  shriek  pierces  the  fitful  blast!  It  is 
the  mighty  struggle  of  an  outraged  people,  hastening  to 
avenge  the  shot  aimed  at  the  Nation's  life.  The  blood  of 
Massachusetts  soldiers  on  the  streets  of  Baltimore  sends 
up  the  first  wail  of  freedom's  martyrs.  From  the  old  Bay 
State,  from  ship-building  Maine;  from  the  Green  Moun- 
tains of  Vermont;  from  Rhode  Island,  small  but  comely; 
from  New  York,  from  Ohio,  from  Pennsylvania,  brave 
thousands  rush  to  the  defense  of  the  starry  flag  of  liber- 
ation. The  Nation  rose  up  as  one  man.  The  husband  left 
his  wife;  delicate  maidens,  in  their  flushed  and  exulting 
beauty,  bade  their  brothers  grasp  the  gleaming  steel.  Sol- 
diers enlisted  for  the  war,  and  parents  consecrated  their 
children  on  the  altars  of  liberty. 

"Throughout  the  land  there  went  a  cry; 
A  sudden  splendor  fills  the  sky ; 
From  every  hill  the  banners  burst, 
Like  buds  from  April  breezes  nurst ; 


448  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

In  every  hamlet,  home,  and  mart, 
The  fire-beat  of  a  single  heart 
Keeps  time  to  strains  whose  pulses  mix 
Our  blood  with  that  of  Seventy-six." 

This  glorious  patriotism  of  the  people  was  the  sub- 
limest  passage  in  our  history.  Sight  unseen  before, — 
more  than  a  half-million  men  standing  to  arms  for  an 
undivided  nationality !  Those  splendid  battalions  marched 
to  no  impudent  Dixie,  but  planted  ^heir  measured  tread 
to  the  music  of  the  Union,  as  it  swelled  forth  in  the  grand 
measure  of  "Hail  Columbia,"  or  waved  in  the  flowing 
strain  of  the  "Star-spangled  Banner,"  or  accelerated  the 
double  quick  with  the  nervous  thrill  of  ancient  and  homely 
"Yankee  Doodle." 

The  fidelity  to  the  flag  of  the  loyal  men  of  the  South 
is  worthy  of  all  praise  and  commendation.  I  never  meet 
these  patriotic  heroes  but  with  a  brother's  heart.  Promi- 
nent leaders  of  the  foul  Rebellion  tell  us  that  those  Union- 
ists were  the  scum  of  the  country,  and  that  they  were  rec- 
reant to  the  South.  If  recreant  to  the  South,  they  were 
true  to  the  Union.  What  care  these  devoted  men  and 
women  for  the  flippant  assaults  of  miserable  ingrates,  who 
would  wade  through  slaughter  to  a  throne?  The  ele- 
ments of  the  Union  party  of  the  South  were  industry, 
patriotism,  and  heroism.  This  gallant  party  moved  under 
no  alien  or  doubtful  standard,  but  they  followed  the  glori- 
ous flag  of  the  Union,  with  its  four  and  thirty  flashing 
stars.  These  brave  Unionists,  in  standing  by  the  Union 
of  the  States,  risked  more  than  the  loss  of  goods  or  po- 
litical honors;  for,  sooner  than  raise  their  hands  against 
the  old  Government,  they  would  have  thought  it  happi- 
ness to  die.  Branded  as  confirmed  traitors  to  the  Con- 
federacy, robbed  and  plundered  of  their  property,  and 
punished  by  the  hired  agents  of  the  Davis  despotism,  yet 
they  never  blenched  at  danger ;  but  were  as  true  as  steel,  as 
constant  as  the  sun,  in  the  discharge  of  every  duty  to  the 
Republic.  Driven  from  their  quiet  and  peaceful  homes, 
they  fled  to  the  mountains  and  to  the  caves  of  the  earth, 
saying,  "Welcome  confiscation,  robbery,  plunder,  even 


APPENDIX.  449 

death  itself;  but  we  will  stand  by  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
to  the  last  drop  of  our  blood,  and  to  the  last  beat  of  our 
hearts."  All  hail  to  the  loyal  men  and  women  of  the 
South !  History,  on  her  brightest  page,  will  preserve  and 
perpetuate  their  honored  names. 

I  remember,  when  passing  through  your  noble  State 
with  Sherman's  army,  that  I  met  a  Union  woman  who 
was  true  to  the  flag.  She  was  connected  with  one  of  the 
leading  families  of  the  State.  She  did  everything  in  her 
power  to  prevent  the  secession  of  North  Carolina,  writ- 
ing letters  to  prominent  politicians,  and  using  her  per- 
sonal influence  to  prevent  the  consummation  of  the 
horrible  deed.  She  had  always  preserved  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  in  her  house,  and  when  we  reached  her  beautiful 
mansion,  there  was  flying  to  the  breeze  the  banner  of 
beauty  and  glory.  Howard's  column  halting,  this  de- 
voted lady,  going  up  to  the  flag  of  one  of  the  regiments, 
knelt  down,  exclaiming,  "Flag  of  my  fathers  and  of  my 
country,  I  bid  you  welcome !  welcome !"  and  she  kissed 
it,  and  bathed  it  with  her  tears.  Among  the  most  con- 
spicuous and  honored  Union  men  of  North  Carolina, 
stands  the  peerless  name  of  W.  W.  Holden.  Champion  of 
the  poor,  true  patriot,  gallant  man,  faithful  friend,  in  the 
name  of  the  loyal  millions,  I  greet  you !  God  bless  these 
full-souled  Union  men  and  women !  They  had  abiding 
faith  that  the  wicked  Rebellion  would  be  utterly  subdued, 
and  that  the  Stars  and  Stripes  would  again  wave  in  tri- 
umph over  the  land  of  Washington  and  Franklin.  The 
valor  and  patriotism  of  the  Greeks,  whose  message  to  their 
enslaved  country  was,  "Go  tell  the  Spartans  they  are  free, 
for  we  died  to  deliver  them,"  has  made  Thermopylae  the 
sanctified  shrine  of  patriotism  through  all  ages;  the 
patriotism  of  the  brave  old  Carthaginian,  who,  hoary  and 
worn-out  in  the  service  of  his  country,  took  his  child  to 
the  temple,  and  on  the  altar  made  him  swear  eternal  hos- 
tility to  the  enemies  of  his  country, — these  are  beautiful 
and  thrilling  evidences  of  heroism.  If  we  look  at  the 
battle-fields  of  the  Union,  we  behold  all  the  traits  of  an- 
cient valor  reproduced  in  the  grand  army  of  the  Republic. 
29 


450  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

What  tongue  can  tell,  what  pen  can  record  the  hero- 
ism that  has  been  displayed  by  the  loyal  soldiers  of  the 
North  and  of  the  South?  A  host  of  brave  men,  who  left 
home  and  all  the  treasures  of  affection,  ended  their  days 
by  the  sacrifice  of  their  lives.  Grandly  and  peacefully  they 
sleep  in  their  holy  graves.  May  their  memories  be  glori- 
ous, pious,  and  immortal ! 

"  They  struggled,  fell,  and  their  life-blood  stained 

The  cruel  Southerner's  hand, 
They  clasped  their  country's  flag  and  cried, 

1  God  and  our  native  land.' 
Let  Angels  spread  their  wings  above, 

Let  flowers  forever  bloom ; 
Let  bays,  green  bays,  spring  forth  to  mark 
The  martyrs'  sacred  totnb." 

Dead  heroes,  may  the  flowers  of  the  Sunny  South 
bloom  over  your  graves ;  may  they  be  of  perpetual  bloom 
and  fragrance !  First,  be  spring  there ;  last,  may  summer 
linger!  May  no  factious  word  be  ever  spoken  over 
ground  so  holy!  American,  Teuton,  and  Celt,  in  the 
honored  graves  in  which  they  sleep — in  one  red  burial 
blent — they  are  far  above  the  arguments  of  the  living 
crowd. 

"  On  fame's  eternal  camping  ground, 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  glory  guards,  with  solemn  round, 
The  bivouac  of  the  dead." 

There  is  another  element  of  our  greatness,  which  we 
commemorate  to-day;  the  number  and  variety  of  our 
great  and  good  men.  In  the  original  settlement  of  this 
grand  Commonwealth,  God  sifted  three  nations  for  seed 
to  sow  on  the  virgin  soil.  There  were  such  men  as  the 
gallant  Catholics  of  Maryland,  the  Quakers  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, the  steady  and  cautious  Germans,  and  the  fiery 
spirits  of  the  Emerald  Isle,  whose  love  of  liberty  was 
kindled  by  the  burning  arguments  of  Grattan,  of  Curran, 
and  of  Robert  Emmet.  The  iron  Saxon,  the  chivalric 
Frenchman,  the  volatile  Italian,  the  heroic  Pole,  and  the 


APPENDIX.  45 1 

impulsive-hearted  Celt,  were  all  combined  in  the  build- 
ing up  of  this  magnificent  Commonwealth. 

Nowhere  on  the  page  of  history  do  we  find  such  an 
assemblage  of  full-souled  men  as  those  who  laid  the  broad 
foundations  of  this  temple'  of  freedom  in  the  Western 
World.  The  councils  of  infant  America  present  a  brilliant 
array  of  talent,  piety,  and  patriotism.  There  is  Thomas 
Jefferson,  the  prophet  and  the  guide  of  the  Colonies. 
There  is  Franklin,  the  savant,  who  tamed  the  lightning 
of  heaven  and  made  the  thunder  sweet  music.  There 
were  the  Lafayettes,  the  Starkes,  the  Pulaskis,  the  Mont- 
gomerys,  the  Pinckneys,  tr;e  Hancocks,  the  Carrolls,  and 
the  Lees,  illustrious  statesmen  and  brilliant  orators. 
There  was  John  Adams,  a  colossus  in  debate;  and  the 
noble  Virginian,  Patrick  Henry,  whose  eloquence  could 
even  charm  the  serpents  of  despotism.  Byron  pronounced 
him  the  forest-born  Demosthenes  of  the  New  World. 
There,  too,  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all,  the  illus- 
trious Washington,  whose  fame,  like  the  higher  stars, 
shall  shine  forever.  It  has  been  beautifully  said  that  these 
were  the  men  who  graved  the  deep  lines  of  the  Revolu- 
tion upon  the  tablet  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  bade 
the  clock  of  eternity  pause,  until  they  notched  the  cen- 
tury with  the  imperishable  lines  of  a  mighty  destiny. 
Around  their  brows  the  Jaurels  cluster  that  belong  to  him 
who  hews  an  age  into  a  shape  of  moral  beauty,  and  fash- 
ions a  huge  fragment  of  time  after  the  great  models  of 
eternity.  To  express  the  moral  grandeur  of  these  illus- 
trious men  a  Phidias,  a  Praxiteles,  and  a  Thorwaldsen 
might  carve, — a  Raphael,  a  David,  and  a  West  might 
paint.  But  they  only  fashion  block,  and  breathe  beauty 
into  tableau,  but  the  men  of  American  independence  were 
the  creators  of  an  age.  They  rolled  back  the  dial  of  the 
dark  years,  and  wound  up  destiny  to  a  better  course. 

It  was  in  1848,  when  the  brilliant  constellation  had 
passed  its  meridian  in  England,  that  Sydney  Smith,  in 
the  pages  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  asked  the  question: 
"Who  reads  an  American  book,  or  looks  at  an  American 
flag,  or  beholds  an  American  statue?  What  does  the 


45 2  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

world  owe  to  American  physicians  or  surgeons?  What 
new  substances  have  their  chemists  discovered?  Who 
drinks  in  American  glasses,  or  eats  from  American  plates, 
or  wears  American  coats,  or  sleeps  on  American  blank- 
ets?" It  is  not  forty  years  since  these  sneering  questions 
were  flippantly  propounded,  and  can  we  not  now  point 
to  a  galaxy  of  names  whose  light  is  as  clear,  as  large,  as 
bright,  as  strong,  as  any  of  those  which  shine  in  the  firma- 
ment of  English  literature? 

In  the  field  of  illustrious  lexicography,  the  fame  of 
Webster  and  Worcester  more  than  rival  that  of  Johnson, 
Walker,  and  Sheridan.  In  history,  Bancroft,  Hildreth, 
Prescott,  Motley,  and  Godwin  equal  Hume,  Lingard,  and 
Macaulay.  By  the  side  of  her  statesmen  we  may  place 
Madison,  Hamilton,  Calhoun,  Hayne,  Clay,  Seward,  Sum- 
ner,  Greeley,  Stevens,  Lincoln.  As  lawyers,  our  Marshall, 
Jay,  Kent,  Chase,  and  Story  will  compare  with  Boyle, 
Hooker,  and  Blackstone.  In  the  sciences  we  have  a  Silli- 
man,  a  Hare,  a  Morse,  and  a  Mitchell,  entitled  to  no  ordi- 
nary level  in  the  niche  of  fame.  In  the  sublime  field  of 
oratory  we  can  point  to  Webster,  Prentiss,  and  Henry 
Clay — orators  whose  eloquence  was  like  the  tornado  that 
sweeps  the  pine-trees  of  a  continent.  During  the  last  forty 
years  we  have  achieved  wonders  in  the  arts  and  sciences. 

Confining  ourselves  to  that  period,  we  would  ask  our 
transatlantic  critics  where  are  the  Grimkes,  Emmets, 
Bascoms,  Maffitts,  Stocktons,  Channings,  Tyngs,  Beech- 
ers,  Simpsons,  Chapins?  Where  their  authors,  Bachs, 
Liebers,  Fields,  Morses,  Agassiz?  Where  their  Whipples, 
Gileses,  Willises,  Saxes,  Reads,  Carys,  Longfeilows, 
Holmeses,  Bryants,  Irvings,  Coopers?  Where  their 
Hugheses,  Purcells,  Choateses,  Taylors,  Everetts,  Sum- 
ners,  Chases,  Fessendens,  Bankses,  Trumbulls,  Schencks,- 
Wilsons,  Binghams,  Douglases,  Langstons?  Where  their 
Greenoughs,  Hosmers?  In  the  arts  of  war,  where  are 
their  Scotts,  Grants,  Shermans,  Mowers,  Coxes,  Porters, 
McPhersons,  Kearneys,  Corcorans,  Mulligans,  McClel- 
lans,  Howards,  Rosecranses,  Hazens,  Hookers,  Oster- 
hauses,  Farraguts,  Logans,  Butlers,  Hallecks,  Burnsides, 


APPENDIX.  453 

Thomases,  Meads,  Sickleses,  Kilpatricks,  or  the  young 
and  brilliant  Miles,  than  whom  a  more  accomplished  and 
gallant  officer  the  regular  army  does  not  possess,  and  of 
whose  services  the  most  martial  and  imperial  nation  might 
well  feel  proud?  Where  a  Stanton — the  tireless,  earnest, 
hopeful,  unconquerable  organizer  of  victorious  men,  eager 
in  sympathy  for  the  right,  nobly  indignant  at  wrong,  and 
full  of  inspiration?  Where,  during  this  forty  years,  is  the 
boundless  learning  of  Luther  Martin?  Where  the  silver 
voice  and  fervid  genius  of  Wrendell  Phillips,  pouring  itself 
along  immense)  ore?  Where  the  ripe  and  beautiful  culture 
of  George  W.  Curtis?  Where  a  Clay,  with  his  electric  fire 
and  impassioned  eloquence?  Where  a  Webster,  calm, 
grand,  majestic,  sitting  on  the  loftiest  peaks  of  Oympus, 
darting  lightnings  and  rolling  thunders?  Where  the 
splendid  rhetoric  and  sparkling  oratory  of  Thomas  Fran- 
cis Meagher?  Where  the  equal  of  the  daring,  bold,  and 
unflinching  Sheridan,  chivalrous  as  Bayard  and  of  colos- 
sal brain  like  Kleber — the  intrepid  outspeaker  of  truth, 
the  eager,  impetuous  redresser  of  wrong,  and  the  pas- 
sionate lover  of  the  Union — would  to  God  that  this  gal- 
lant soldier  were  at  the  head  of  his  fiery  countrymen  on 
the  hill  of  Tara,  that  he  might  confront  the  mercenaries 
of  Britain  upon  the  curragh  of  Kildare, 

"With  a  hundred  yards, 
And  England's  guards, 
Drawn  up  to  meet  us  there," — 

or  their  parallels  to  the  hundred  other  names  that  have 
spread  themselves  over  the  country  and  over  the  world, 
blessing  and  delighting  mankind  by  their  works,  inven- 
tions, and  examples !  In  so  far  as  we  know,  there  is  no 
such  parallel  to  be  produced  in  the  same  time  from  the 
annals  of  self-adulating  England.  The  history  of  Britain 
presents  no  parallel  to  the  rapidity  with  which  our  present 
distinguished  Chief  Magistrate  has  gradually  advanced 
from  the  humblest  calling  to  the  occupancy  of  the  first 
position  in  the  world ! 


454  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

We  commemorate  to-day  the  abolition  of  the  mon- 
strous crime  of  American  slavery.  Thank  God,  the  great 
and  guilty  system  of  slavery  has  perished  forever !  Let  it 
be  buried  with  all  its  horrors  and  barbarities  in  the  grave ! 
Let  it  fade  forever  from  the  recollection  of  man!  The 
proclamation  of  liberty  to  four  million  captives  has  rolled 
away  a  great  reproach  from  us,  and  withdrawn  a  most 
serious  obstacle  to  our  progress.  Let  the  world  call  it 
the  extravagance  of  charity,  or  the  romance  of  equity; 
it  was  a  magnificent  spectacle.  It  was  a  glorious  day; 
a  day  in  which  years  of  shame  and  oppression  were  blotted 
out;  a  day  in  which  a  long  despised  and  trampled  race 
sprung  into  the  grand  proportions  of  free  men ;  a  day  in 
which  the  armies  of  the  Union  halted  on  their  march, 
looked  toward  the  White  House,  and  blessed  the  beau- 
tiful prediction  of  a  splendid  era.  That  page  of  history 
can  never  make  us  blush.  That  lofty  deed  can  never 
shame  us.  It  was  the  resurrection  of  the  great  Nation 
founded  by  the  fathers.  It  was  the  awful  march  of  jus- 
tice; it  was  the  majestic  front  of  philanthropy  frowning 
down  oppression ;  it  was  the  sublime  embodiment  of  right 
treading  down  the  plots  and  schemes  of  the  lords  of  the 
cotton-bales  and  rice  swamps:  it  was  Freedom,  clothing 
herself  anew  with  the  robes  of  '76,  making  her  stately 
march  through  the  arms  and  banners  of  a  gallant  people 
to  open  the  prison  doors  of  the  enslaved,  and  to  conse- 
crate a  free  Republic.  No  more  will  an  English  poet  re- 
buke us. 

"  United  States,  your  banner  wears 

Two  emblems — one  of  fame; 
Alas  !  the  other  that  it  bears 

Reminds  us  of  your  shirne : 
Your  standard  constellation  types 

White  freedom,  by  its  stars ; 
But  what  the  meaning  of  those  stripes? 

They  mean  your  Negro's  scars!  " 

A  man  may  be  a  serf  in  Russia,  a  peon  in  Mexico,  a 
slave  in  Ireland;  but  here  he  is  redeemed,  disenthralled, 


APPENDIX.  455 

and  free !  Banded  despots  and  kingly  ruffians  were  taunt- 
ing us  that  our  power  was  laid  low,  that  our  voice  was 
to  be  heard  no  more  in  the  hymn  of  nations.  The  old 
empires  were  watching  for  the  death,  and  had  made  ready 
mourning  weed  and  cypress  wreath  for  the  burial;  they 
said  that  our  sun  had  set  forever !  But  Abraham  Lincoln, 
the  brightest  of  the  bright  and  the  purest  of  the  pure, 
obeying  the  advice  of  the  millions  of  the  East  and  of  the 
great  Northwest,  lifting  his  head  above  the  tempest,  wrote 
the  immortal  charter  of  universal  emancipation.  The 
Bourses  of  Europe  were  lost  in  wonder  when  they  heard 
it.  The  crowned  monarchs  shook,  and  they  talked  no  more 
of  Columbia's  faded  greatness  and  prostrate  might.  Land 
of  our  fathers,  land  of  benedictions,  victorious  hast  thou 
been  in  battle ;  potential  in  negotiation ;  fruitful  in  benevo- 
lence ;  distinguished  in  art !  But  then  was  thy  ascendant ! 
Thy  palm  lifted  itself  to  its  tallest  growth;  thy  glories 
culminated  in  that  godlike  act.  The  edict  of  freedom  has 
resounded  through  all  nations  of  the  earth.  Millions  have 
gazed  upon  it  with  devout  joy  and  rapture.  It  has  shaken 
the  thronedoms  of  tyranny,  and  has  made  the  minions  of 
slavery  tremble.  It  has  reverberated  from  empire  to  em- 
pire, from  continent  to  continent,  from  hemisphere  to 
hemisphere.  The  Laplander  has  heard  it  amid  the  regions 
of  eternal  snow ;  the  European  has  heard  it  amid  the  fields 
and  crowded  cities  of  a  refined  and  civilized  population ; 
the  Arab  and  the  Hindoo  have  heard  it  amid  the  gardens 
and  spicy  plains  of  Arabia;  the  peasantry  in  Wales,  in 
England,  in  Scotland,  in  old  Ireland,  in  Germany,  and 
even  the  uncultured  dwellers  in  Asia,  have  kindled  with 
delight  as  they  read  the  Anthem  of  the  Free.  It  is  re- 
corded of  Flaminius,  the  Roman  general,  that  when  he 
proclaimed,  at  the  Isthmian  games,  that  Greece  was  no 
longer  tributary  to  the  Roman  Empire,  but  free  and  in- 
dependent, the  hearts  of  the  plebeians  were  so  over- 
powered with  joy  that  they  could  scarce  believe  their  own 
ears,  for  when  the  herald  proclaimed  their  liberty  they 
desired  that  the  sweet  word  Liberty  might  be.  repeated. 


456  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

"  O,  catch  its  high  import,  ye  winds  as  ye  blow— 

O,  bear  it,  ye  waves,  as  ye  roll — 
From  regions  that  feel  the  sun's  vertical  glow 

To  the  farthest  extremes  of  the  pole  ; 
And  wherever  the  footsteps  of  man  can  be  found, 
May  he  bind  the  decree  to  his  heart!  " 

What  a  splendid  epoch  does  this  grand  deed  consti- 
tute in  the  annals  of  the  Government !  The  President  was 
called  to  a  difficult  and  perilous  position,  his  influence 
extending  over  a  broader  land  than  the  Roman  eagle  ever 
swept  in  all  the  magnificence  of  his  flight.  By  this  crown- 
ing act  of  moral  duty  the  Springfield  lawyer  was  silently 
lifted  up  before  the  nations  as  God's  greatest,  noblest  man. 
His  name  hereafter  will  be  emblazoned  in  the  vast  pan- 
theon of  Freedom's  champions.  How  just  and  beautiful 
the  eulogy  of  Meagher  in  one  of  his  splendid  orations, 
distinguished  by  a  lofty  eloquence,  when  he  described  the 
assassinated  President  going  to  heaven,  bearing  in  his 
hand  the  broken  shackles  of  four  millions  of  slaves ! 

In  our  changeful  sky,  where  so  many  glories  at  sud- 
den intervals  succeed  the  eclipse  and  the  storm;  where 
crimson  clouds  for  years  and  years  will  float  over  a  wilder- 
ness of  martyr  graves ;  where  sunshine  comes  by  fits  and 
starts,  chasing  those  clouds  away,  and,  for  a  season,  warms 
the  shivering  earth  below  into  fruitfulness  and  joy, — in 
this,  our  changeful  sky,  we  call  that  name  our  brightest 
star.  On  his  brow  it  may  be  said  with  much  more  truth 
than  of  the  Roman  general,  "Annexit  Africa  Lauros" 
Though  destitute  during  life  of  art  and  pomp,  yet  his  was 
a  radiant  life  and  a  noble  death,  and  as  he  took  his  place 
among  the  immortals  one  might  say:  "Way,  there,  for 
the  brave  child  of  the  people,  the  grand  hero  of  to-day! 
Servant  of  the  Republic,  well  done ;  take  your  crown  and 
harp,  and  enter  into  the  joy  of  your  Lord." 

I  am  hopeful  of  the  Republic.  Struck  down  in  the 
morning  of  its  bright  career — in  the  bloom  and  promise 
of  its  youth — yet  it  shall  live,  purified  and  strengthened 
by  the  afflictions  through  which  it  has  passed.  The  prin- 
ciples of  Liberty  shall  never  die;  but,  like  the  words  of 


APPENDIX.  457 

the  prophets,  they  shall  endure  forever.  It  is  not  easy 
to  conquer  a  freedom-loving  people ;  it  is  not  easy  to  tear 
from  a  great  Nation  the  honors  which  they  have  worn  for 
so  many  years.  Our  mission  is  not  yet  completed.  The 
dearest  and  most  precious  hopes  of  the  race  are  inter- 
woven with  our  ^existence.  The  predictions  of  prophecy 
applied  to  us,  demonstrate  clearly  and  strongly  that  the 
grand  design  of  the  Republic  is  to  destroy  all  systems 
of  monarchical  Government,  and  to  propagate  the  prin- 
ciples of  liberty  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  The  London 
Times  in  1861  gravely  declared  that  the  United  States 
was  only  suited  for  fair  weather,  and  not  for  dark  tem- 
pests. The  British  Government  was  unmasked,  driven 
from  her  position  of  neutrality,  and  showed  herself  the 
ferocious  monster  that  she  has  always  been.  .  The  heart  of 
every  aristocrat  was  glad.  Since  the  days  of  Waterloo  no 
more  welcome  tidings  reached  them  than  when  they  heard 
the  mad  secession  of  the  Southern  States.  Rawdon  de- 
clared in  the  Commons,  that  the  thunder-cloud  had  van- 
ished— that  the  bubble  democracy  had  burst.  Lord  Rus- 
sell stated  at  an  agricultural  banquet  that  the  North  was 
fighting  to  enslave  the  South.  'fhe  hoary-headed 
Brougham  averred  that  the  object  of  the  war  was  infa- 
mous; and  Palmerston,  amidst  the  resounding  cheers  of 
Parliament,  denounced  the  slashing  Butler — the  black 
man's  friend — to  be  a  monster.  Have  these  aristocratic 
ruffians  forgot  that  republics  are  more  vigorous  in  war 
than  in  peace?  It  is  prosperity  and  not  adversity  that  is 
most  dangerous  to  them.  It  was  not  in  peace  that  Hol- 
land, from  a  community  of  clodhoppers,  sprung  up  into 
the  robust  proportions  of  a  great  nation,  renowned  in 
art,  in  learning,  in  commerce,  and  in  glory.  The  Roman 
Republic  endured  for  four  hundred  and  sixty-six  years, 
during  which  time  it  ruled  the  world.  Switzerland  is  now 
five  hundred  and  fifty  years  old,  and  still  the  Little  Giant 
of  the  Alps  bears  aloft  above  the  haughtiest  heads  of  Eu- 
rope, amid  the  lightnings  and  the  eagles  of  her  moun- 
tains, the  excelsior  banner  of  republicanism. 

Already  our  success  in  the  squelching  of  the  slave- 


458  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

holder's  rebellion  is  finding  a  response  in  the  hearts  of 
millions,  who  wait  impatiently  for  the  universal  triumph 
of  liberty.  The  Irish  uprising  has  taken  place  as  a  result 
of  our  triumph.  The  present  is  the  brightest  period 
which  the  history  of  Ireland  has  exhibited  for  a  hundred 
years.  And  it  seems  as  if  the  hopes  of  the  patriots  of 
Ireland  are  soon  to  be  realized.  The  work  of  Irish  eman- 
cipation is  gradually  and  silently  going  forward,  and  the 
peculiar  advantages  for  successfully  realizing  such  an  end 
as  the  powerful  Fenian  Brotherhood  affords,  will  tend 
to  a  consummation  so  long  desired,  so  perseveringly 
sought  by  Wolf  Tone  and  his  compatriots. 

"  The  splendor  of  her  Emmet's  fame 
Is  Erin's  glory  and  her  shame ; 
Her  glory  that  he  loved  her  well, 
Her  shame  that  unavenged  he  fell ; 
But  soon  or  late  that  shame  must  cease, 
Or  Erin  ne'er  ag'ain  may  hope  for  peace." 

Distant  and  beloved  Isle — the  land  of  Grattan,  of 
Moore,  of  Sheridan,  of  Curran,  of  Corcoran,  of  Meagher, 
and  of  the  great-hearted  Burke — we  hope  to  see  thee 
again  in  commercial  grandeur;  thy  magnificent  rivers 
again  white  with  the  sails  of  trade;  thy  great  warehouses 
s\varming  with  life;  thy  manufactories,  the  laboring 
places  of  thousands;  and  thy  Green  Flag  flying  in  the 
breeze,  giving  indications  that  Ireland  is  free! 

I  take  hope  from  the  generous  sympathies  extended 
to  us  by  the  masses  of  Europe.  Among  the  nations  that 
surround  us,  there  is  not  one  virtuous  bosom  that  does 
not  beat  for  us;  the  prayers  of  downtrodden  millions 
followed  our  banners  into  the  field;  and  the  arms  of  the 
patriot  soldier  was  blessed  by  voices  that  never  reached 
his  ear. 

A  dear  and  valued  friend  of  mine,  who  served  with 
distinction  through  the  first  three  years  of  the  war,  fired 
by  a  love  of  liberty,  crossed  the  ocean  and  engaged  in  the 
struggle  for  Ireland,  that  fine  old  nation,  for  whose  inde- 
pendence Grattan  pleaded  and  Emmet  died.  He  was  cast 


APPENDIX.  459 

into  prison,  and  he  assured  me  some  time  ago,  that  when 
he  heard  the  newsboys  crying  through  the  streets  of 
Dublin,  "The  North  is  victorious,  Lee's  army  has  sur- 
rendered !"  he  felt  the  chains  on  his  body  grow  a 
little  lighter.  Thank  God  that  generous  voices  in  all 
lands  were  with  us ;  from  Ireland  to  Greece  there  was  but 
one  national  throb.  It  beat  for  us.  Hungary,  the  land 
of  Kossuth,  the  beautiful  and  gifted  Italy,  noble  Poland, 
the  emancipated  serfs,  they  cheered  us  in  the  struggle. 
Ireland,  sitting  like  a  widowed  queen  amidst  the  wreck 
of  former  glories,  fought  our  battle.  The  presence  of  her 
Fenian  men,  drilling  on^the  hills  by  night,  did  more  to 
check  the  British. Lion  than  all  the  diplomacy  of  Seward 
and  Adams.  I  have  said  that  the  heart  of  every  lord  and 
crowned  ruffian  wished  our  overthrow.  Have  their  pre- 
dictions been  fulfilled?  Is  the  Union  gone?  And  has 
that  mighty  Nation  which  the  sword  of  Washington 
evoked  passed  away?  No,  this  splendid  temple  of  free- 
dom, having  the  Stars  of  the  Union  for  its  coronet,  and  the 
Rock  of  Independence  for  its  footstool,  must  stand  until 
the  first  growl  of  the  gathering  shall  be  heard  announc- 
ing the  downfall  of  all  thrones.  The  efforts  of  the  rebels 
at  home  and  foes  abroad  fell  short  of  their  terrible  aim. 
They  might  as  well  strike  against  the  heavens  with  their 
arms  as  lift  them  against  the  American  Union : 

"  As  long  as  yonder  cliffs  shall  stand, 
Between  the  ocean  and  the  land, 
As  long  as  yonder  firs  shall  spread, 
Their  green  arms  round  the  mountain's  head, 
So  long  shall  cliffs  and  mountains.be 
The  proud  retreats  for  liberty." 

And  while  inflexibly  demanding  that  the  Reconstruc- 
tion measures  of  Congress  shall  be  heartily  and  promptly 
accepted  by  those  recently  in  rebellion,  let  us  also  be  mag- 
nanimous towards  a  brave  but  mistaken  people.  They 
have  proved  themselves  foemen  worthy  of  our  steel ;  they 
stand  before  the  world  as  the  most  masterly  revolution- 
ists of  any  age  or  history.  Let  us  attach  these  erring 


460  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

brethren  to  the  Union,  not  by  fear,  but  by  the  golden 
links  of  gratitude.  Any  other  terms  than  those  proposed 
by  Grant  in  the  surrender  of  Lee  will  overshadow  the 
national  cause  with  opprobium,  and  cast  a  cloud  on  the 
brilliant  fame  of  the  grand  army  of  the  Republic. 

General  Lee,  with  the  truthfulness  and  independence 
of  a  great  soldier,  as  he  unquestionably  is ;  General  John- 
ston, whose  sword  was  invoked  at  the  last  moments  to 
save  the  drowning  banners  of  the  South ;  Generals  Long- 
street,  Beauregard,  and  Thompson — these,  and  others 
equally  distinguished  in  the  South,  have  heartily  acqui- 
esced in  the  issues  of  the  late  struggle,  and,  with  the  good 
faith  and  frankness  of  brave  soldiers,  are  now  earnestly 
and  sincerely  engaged  in  co-operating  with  the  Wash- 
ington authorities  to  repair  the  breaches  of  the  war.  In 
behalf  of  the  brave  men  who  fought  and  conquered,  I 
vehemently  repudiate  all  ideas  of  confiscation,  of  making 
an  Ireland  or  a  Poland  of  the  South;  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  rapturously  hail  and  welcome  the  South  as  one  of 
the  wealthiest  and  noblest  sections  of  the  American 
Union.  The  war  being  over,  let  there  be  no  thorns 
planted  where  the  olive  has  taken  root.  In  a  divine  sac- 
rament of  forgiveness,  love,  and  patriotism,  let  us  dedi- 
cate this  beautiful  and  superb  domain  to  the  growth  of  a 
stalwart  democracy,  to  the  everlasting  brotherhood  of 
those  who  had  been  foes  upon  the  battle-field,  to  the  tri- 
umphant reign  of  industry,  and  to  truthful  and  glorious 
peace.  Let  us  indulge  the  hope  that  the  erring  stars,  now 
dimmed  and  darkened,  will  one  by  one  reappear,  until  the 
old  constellation,  flashing  out  in  all  its  ancient  splendor 
on  the  night,  again  shall  blaze,  the  pride  and  glory  of 
the  sky. 

When  I  look  abroad  I  am  encouraged,  and  when  I 
look  at  home  my  spirits  are  exalted.  The  Reconstruction 
measures  of  the  Thirty-ninth  Congress,  and  the  grand  en- 
thusiasm of  the  people  for  equal  rights  and  unversal  suf- 
frage— these  are  omens  that  better  and  brighter  times  will 
yet  break  on  our  land.  To  the  immortal  honor  of  the 
great  Union  party  of  the  country  be  it  said,  in  spite  of 


APPENDIX.  461 

opposition  from  a  thousand  sources,  it  has  conferred  upon 
the  black  man  the  inestimable  and  God-given  right  of 
suffrage.  You,  my  black  friends,  have  voted  in  the  past. 
You  voted  in  that  golden  era  of  the  Republic ;  during  the 
Revolution  the  illustrious  Washington,  John  Adams,  and 
Thomas  Jefferson  walked  up  to  the  polls,  and  deposited 
their  votes  in  companionship  with  your  fathers. 

In  five  New  England  States  and  in  New  York  your 
race  have  been  voting  ever  since.  In  such  Southern 
States  as  Maryland,  Virginia,  Tennessee,  during  the  years 
of  1832,  1835,  and  1838,  Negroes  voted. 

Your  enemies  say  that  you  are  too  ignorant  to  use 
the  ballot.  There  is  one  thing  you  do  know — the  differ- 
ence between  a  gray  and  blue  coat.  Well,  this  charge  of 
ignorance  comes  with  very  poor  grace,  from  a  party  of 
politicians  who  have  always  been  connected  with  the  most 
uncultivated  voters  of  the  country.  In  Ohio,  my  State, 
there  was  a  shining  apostle  of  the  Copperhead  Democ- 
racy who  was  very  much  aroused  when  the  Freedmen's 
Bureau  Bill  passed  Congress.  He  exclaimed  to  a  Repub- 
lican neighbor,  "Have  you  heard  the  news  that  the  Black 
Republicans  have  passed  a  bill  giving  to  every  Negro  a 
bureau,  and  I  have  been  married  twenty-five  years  and 
have  none  yet." 

All  the  black  man  asks  is  an  open  field  and  a  fair  fight. 
There  is  a  story  which  illustrates  his  present  position.  It 
was  in  1776,  when  the  American  army  lay  encamped  at 
Morristown,  that  a  young  foreigner  presented  himself  to 
General  Washington  with  an  introduction  from  Benjamin 
Franklin. 

"What  do  you  seek  here?"  inquired  the  commander- 
in-chief.  "To  fight  for  liberty!"  replied  the  young  man. 
"What  can  you  do?"  "Try  me!"  was  the  answer.  Wash- 
ington took  him  at  his  word.  He  was  tried,  and  rose  to 
the  rank  of  general.  Having  fought  for  our  independ- 
ence, he  recrossed  the  ocean  and  returned  to  his  home. 
Americans,  you  can  never  forget  him,  for  among  the  hills 
at  West  Point,  overlooking  the  Hudson,  a  marble  ceno- 
taph still  stands  to  commemorate  the  gratitude  of  the 


462  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

people  he  served  so  well.  His  name  was  Thaddeus  Kos- 
ciusko. 

As  he  once  stood  before  Washington,  so  now  the 
blacks  stand  before  the  United  States  and  the  nations 
of  Christendom,  claiming  recognition  at  their  hands.  To 
the  African  race,  recently  emancipated,  the  same  ques- 
tions are  put  as  to  Kosciusko,  and  the  same  answers  are 
given.  "What  do  you  seek  here?"  "To  vote,  fight,  and, 
if  need  be,  to  die  for  Liberty."  "What  can  you  do?" 
"Try  me.  By  all  my  recent  sorrows,  by  the  wrongs  I  have 
suffered,  by  the  bloody  agonies  which  I  have  endured, 
by  the  fidelity  with  which  I  have  preserved  the  immortal 
hope  of  final  deliverance,  by  my  friendship  for  the  Union 
soldiers,  by  the  fearful  odds  against  which  I  have  con- 
tended, by  what  I  have  done  and  suffered,  ye  nations  of 
the  earth,  try  me!" 

This  is  what  the  black  man  claims.  It  is  right  that  he 
should  enjoy  equal  rights  before  the  law,  as  well  as  the 
haughtiest  slave-lord  that  walks  the  earth. 

By  their  desperate  fidelity  to  the  fortunes  of  the  Na- 
tion in  many  a  fierce  tempest  of  the  war,  a  fidelity  all  the 
more  heroic  that  they  fought  in  chains,  and  with  the  devo- 
tions of  martyrs  repaid  with  torrents  of  generous  blood 
the  proscription  and  wicked  bondage  in  which,  under  the 
Stars  and  Stripes,  they  had  been  for  generations  held ; 
by  their  desperate  fidelity  and  splendid  soldiership,  such 
as  Fort  Wagner  and  Port  Hudson  gave  to  their  bayonets 
an  irresistible  electricity,  the  black  heroes  of  the  Union 
army  are  not  only  entitled  to  liberty,  but  to  citizenship; 
and  the  politician  who  would  deny  them  the  rights  for 
which  their  wounds  and  glorified  colors  so  eloquently 
plead,  is  unworthy  to  participate  in  the  grandeur  of  the 
Nation  which  these  heroes  did  so  much  to  vindicate. 

Your  rights  and  privileges  as  citizens,  my  friends,  will 
be  most  intelligently,  vigilantly,  and  gallantly  maintained 
by  the  fearless  commander  of  this  district,  General  D.  E. 
Sickles ;  who,  on  the  field  as  well  as  in  the  legislative  halls 
of  the  country,  has  proved  himself  an  accomplished  sol- 
dier and  a  wise  statesman. 


APPENDIX.  463 

The  black  heroes  are  entitled  to  all  the  emoluments  of 
citizenship.  It  is  for  us  to  recall  the  devotion,  the  cour- 
age, and  the  sublime  heroism  this  proscribed  race  has 
displayed  during  the  Rebellion.  Have  we  not  all  one 
Father?  The  same  essential  elements  alike  of  physical, 
intellectual,  and  moral  being  enter  into  the  composition 
of  his  nature ;  the  same  heavens  are  spread  over  him ;  the 
same  moon  measures  his  monthly  periods;  and  the  same 
revolutions  of  the  globe  bear  him  onward  to  his  future 
and  eternal  destiny.  Is  he  not,  then,  my  neighbor,  my 
equal  in  all  the  essentials  of  humanity? 

A  word,  and  I  am  done.  I  speak  to  you  to-day,  my 
respected  auditors,  in  the  interest  of,  and  in  behalf  of, 
that  organization  with  which  the  proudest  recollections 
of  the  last  five  years  have  been  identified. 

This  magnificent  National  party,  though  young  in 
years,  is  old  in  precious  memories,  hallowed  associations, 
and  unfading  glories.  Stand  by  it,  for  it  has  sent  eighteen 
hundred  thousand  brave  men  to  the  field  to  fight  for  the 
Republic. 

Stand  by  it,  for  it  has  expended  four  thousand  million 
dollars  to  save  our  country  from  dishonor  and  death. 
Stand  by  the  grand  army  of  the  Union,  the  pride  and 
beauty  of  which  are  imperishably  blended  with  the  sudden 
blaze  of  victory  that  arose  above  Fort  Donelson,  and  then 
traveled  in  unwavering  lines  of  glory  through  the  storm 
that  shook  the  earth  at  Chattanooga,  at  Atlanta,  and  at 
Richmond.  Stand  by  the  Union  party,  for  its  triumph  is 
the  triumph  of  patriotism,  the  triumph  of  heroism,  the 
triumph  of  democracy,  and  the  triumph  of  that  nation- 
ality which  the  Stars  and  Stripes  so  splendidly  symbolize. 

Arise,  then,  ye  loyal  men,  arise!  This  is  the  hour 
when  individual  manhood  is  worth  all  the  arts  and  science 
of  diplomacy.  By  your  love  of  this  great  land,  by  the 
stern  memory  of  your  wrongs,  come  and  rally  round  the 
grand  army  of  freedom,  whose  standard  breasts  the 
northern  air,  led  on  by  the  great  captains  of  undying 
fame. 

The  people  are  the  millions,   and  irresistible.     The 


464  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

disloyal  of  the  North  and  their  accomplices  in  the  South 
are  but  the  units  to  be  scattered  before  us,  like  a  single 
hunter  before  the  whole  forest  at  bay.  They  can  stand 
before  us  no  more  than  the  grass  before  the  lava,  the 
brushwood  against  the  avalanche.  There  is  no  neutrality 
in  this  crisis.  You  must  choose  your  sides,  and  choose 
quickly.  If  you  love  slavery,  stripes,  and  dishonor — if  you 
are  prepared  to  abandon  your  liberty — join  the  enemies 
of  the  Republic. 

If  you  love  justice,  if  your  heart  warms  at  the  mem- 
ories of  this  dear  land,  if  it  swells  with  the  hope  of  her 
deliverance  and  her  glory,  God  bless  you!  Your  side  is 
with  the  country,  your  rank  is  beneath  the  Stars  and 
Stripes.  We  make  our  appeal  in  the  name  of  your  coun- 
try, in  the  name  of  all  heroic  virtues,  of  all  that  makes 
life  illustrious  and  death  divine,  in  the  name  of  your  dead 
comrades,  by  your  martyrs  in  prison-cells  and  felon- 
chains,  in  the  name  of  God  and  man,  by  the  listening 
earth  and  watching  heavens,  I  call  upon  you  to  be 
stanch,  to  be  firm,  to  be  united.  As  you  listen  to  these 
weak  words  of  mine,  and  as  your  eyes  grow  dim  with 
tears  as  the  memory  of  your  wrongs  rushes  upon  your 
souls,  even  now  lift  up  your  right  hand  to  Heaven,  and 
swear  by  your  undying  souls,  by  your  hope  of  immor- 
tality, that  henceforth  your  services  will  be  linked  with 
the  party  of  universal  liberty.  Gather  round  the  standard 
of  your  chiefs ;  one  bold,  one  decisive  move,  one  moment 
to  take  breath,  and  then  a  rising,  a  rush,  a  charge  from 
the  east,  north,  west,  and  south  upon  the  enemies  of 
the  Republic,  and  the  country  is  ours.  Do  your  eyes 
flash?  Do  your  hearts  throb  at  the  prospect?  Be  Union 
men,  and  this  fair  land,  which  affrights  the  angels  with  its 
misery,  will  be  one  grand  temple,  in  which  we  shall  kneel 
as  brothers — children  of  one  God — heirs  together  of  those 
blessings  purchased  by  the  blood  of  gallant  men — a  her- 
itage of  freedom,  justice,  independence,  glory! 


APPENDIX.  465 


CAUSES  FOR  THANKSGIVING. 

THANKSGIVING  SERMON,  DELIVERED  BY  REV.  G.  W.  PEPPER,  IN  THE 
METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH,  WOOSTER,  NOVEMBER  24,  1870. 

TEXT — Psalms  xcviii,  6:  "With  trumpets  and  sound  of  cornets 
make  a  joyful  noise  before  the  Lord." 

AMONG  the  glittering  gems  of  Thanksgiving  utter- 
ances, the  one  chosen  to-day  was  the  most  univer- 
sally admired  for  its  beauty,  comprehensiveness,  and 
significance.  Wondrously  beautiful  are  the  Psalms! 
They  furnish  sorrow  wTith» words  of  sweetest  melody,  de- 
spondency with  expressions  of  hope,  and  gladness  with 
strains  of  triumph ! 

Thanksgiving  is  as  old  as  creation.  There  was  a  beau- 
tiful tradition  among  the  Jews,  that  when  God  had  cre- 
ated the  world  he  asked  the  angels  what  they  thought 
of  the  work  of  his  hands.  One  of  them  replied  that  it  was 
so  vast  and  so  perfect,  that  only  one  thing  was  wanting ; 
namely,  the  creation  of  a  clear,  mighty,  harmonious  in- 
strument, which  should  fill  all  quarters  of  the  world  with 
its  sweet  sound,  day  and  night,  to  offer  thanksgiving  to 
its  Maker  for  his  incomprehensible  blessings.  The  an- 
cient Jews  were  distinguished  for  grand  outbursts  of 
gratitude.  Their  religion  was  not  one  of  gloom.  The 
Jewish  people  were  a  nation  of  thanksgivers. 

Behold  that  triumphant  host  marching  through  the 
holy  lands  to  appear  before  God  at  the  annual  feast! 
They  come  from  purple  vinelands;  they  come  from  in- 
vaded borders;  they  come  from  resounding  victories. 

In  that  illustrious  throng  might  be  seen  prophets, 
warriors,  young  men  in  the  morning  of  their  beautiful 
dreams  and  sacred  labors;  maids  of  Israel,  with  the  sum- 
mer dawning  upon  their  brows;  little  children,  who  be- 
held for  the  first  time  the  grand  and  beautiful  image  of 
their  native  land. 

Thanksgiving,    as    now    celebrated,    is    five    gener- 
ations old. 
30 


466  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Hail  to  the  stiff  Puritans!  See  them  standing  upon 
the  ice-bound  coast,  and  offering  up  their  first  thanks- 
giving !  The  grandest  spectacle  of  a  nation  is  its  Thanks- 
giving celebrations.  Millions  upon  their  knees  render- 
ing praise  to  God  is  a  brilliant  scene.  A  mighty  Nation, 
with  its  President,  governors,  senators,  generals,  admirals, 
soldiery,  and  citizens,  assembled  in  their  churches,  ac- 
knowledging the  Divine  bountifulness,  is  a  moving  and 
an  august  spectacle.  Throughout  this  glorious  land  of 
Washington  bands  of  patriotic  minstrels  are  singing  the 
joyous  chant : 

"  Praise  ye  the  Lord, 
For  His  mercy  endureth  forever." 

The  service  of  this  day  is  peculiarly  one  of  gratitude, 
and  gratitude  has  been  beautifully  defined  to  be  the  mem- 
ory of  the  heart. 

It  will  do  us  good  to  forget  the  cares  and  businesses 
of  life  to-day — 

"  To  leave  dull  earth  behind  us  and  take  a  flight  towards  heaven." 

This  Thanksgiving-day  comes  to  us  brighter  and 
greener  than  any  preceding  one.  Our  autumn  is  fuller  of 
sublimity;  our  mornings  exhibit  a  boundless  vista  of 
splendors ! 

The  mill-wheels  upon  a  thousand  streams  are  silent; 
the  church-bells  ring  out  their  joyous  invitations;  the 
marts  of  trade  are  quiet ! 

This  day  stands  like  some  fair  mount  in  the  midst  of 
a  rich  and  varied  country,  at  the  summit  of  which  the 
traveler  pauses  to  look  on  the  region  he  has  left  behind, 
and  forward  to  the  prospect  that  lies  before  him.  It  is 
Tabor  without  its  dazzling  brightness,  and  Sinai  without 
its  terrors. 

Can  we  ever  forget  New  England?  It  is  to  the  thank- 
ful piety  of  her  Puritans  that  we  owe  this  delightful  serv- 
ice. Wherever  throughout  the  wide  world  Americans 
to-day  are  scattered,  they  will  travel  back  in  loving  mem- 
ory to  the  old  homestead — to  the  sacred  spot  that  shel- 


APPENDIX.  467 

tered  them  in  infancy.  In  a  million  American  homes 
gray-headed  men  and  venerable  mothers  will  repeat  to 
their  children  and  grandchildren,  that  girdle  them  with 
beauty,  the  touching  story -of  their  early  day;  the  priva- 
tions, conflicts,  and  success.  That  mind  must  be  dark, 
and  that  heart  must  be  adamant,  which,  in  reviewing  the 
past  year,  can  not  behold  the  signal  mercies  vouchsafed 
to  the  Nation,  to  the  family,  and  the  Church.  Put  on 
your  imperial  robes,  ye  Christian  citizens,  and  accompany 
me  up  to  the  mountain  of  thanksgiving,  and  there  offer 
your  praises  to  Jehovah  for  the  blessings  of  the  year. 
Come  forward,  children  of  the  beneficent  Father,  look 
upon  the  bright  lining  on" the  clouds,  tune  your  American 
harps  to  the  strains  of  the  Hebrew  bard,  and  sing  the 
praises  of  the  Lord  and  his  majestic  glory! 

THEMES  OF  THANKFULNESS. 

We  should  thank  God  for  the  extent  and  variety  of 
our  grand  national  domain.  Ours  is  a  goodly  heritage. 
God  hath  brought  us  into  a  large  place.  Let  us  look 
around  and  behold !  We  have  a  land  more  extensive  than 
that  of  Alexander,  when  he  thought  the  world  lay  at  his 
feet ;  than  of  imperial  Rome,  when  in  the  moment  of  her 
highest  prowess  Trajan  swayed  his  scepter  from  the 
Tweed  to  the  Euphrates ;  than  of  Russia  in  our  day.  Our 
glorious  flag  floats  undisputed  over  an  area  of  more  than 
three  thousand  square  miles,  or  one  billion  nine  hundred 
million  broad  acres,  a  territory  ten  times  as  large  as  that 
of  Great  Britain  and  France  combined.  The  food-pro- 
ducing States  west  of  the  lakes  raised  in  1860  about 
642,000,000  bushels  of  wheat,  and  only  one-fifth  of  the 
territory  is  under  cultivation !  Multiply  these  figures  by 
five,  and  you  have  the  astounding  result  of  three  billion 
two  hundred  million  bushels  of  grain,  the  production  of 
which  is  only  a  pleasure,  as  the  farmer  has  only  to  tickle 
the  prairie  with  his  steam-plow,  and  it  laughs  and  sparkles 
with  a  splendid  harvest.  An  angel  whose  eye  expatiated 
over  the  geography  of  a  hundred  nations,  beholds  no 
heritage  so  broad,  no  lands  so  fair. 


468  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

We  can  point  with  patriotic  pride  to  a  country  where 
the  grand  and  the  graceful,  the  awful  and  the  lovely,  the 
rugged  cataract  and  the  smiling  brook,  mingle  together. 
Behold  our  splendid  lakes,  our  fertile  plains,  our  towering 
mountains,  our  charming  valleys,  our  sweeping  prairies, 
our  entrancing  landscapes,  and  our  sky  soft  and  blue  at 
times  as  that  which  bends  over  the  faded  splendors  of 
Italy. 

That  broad-thoughted  French  philosopher,  De 
Tocqueville,  in  his  work  on  the  United  States,  says  that 
"America  is  the  most  magnificent  dwelling-place  prepared 
by  God  for  man's  abode."  In  fashioning  this  majestic 
edifice  of  freedom  for  the  oppressed  races,  the  Creator 
gave  us  not  a  barracks,  but  a  palace ;  not  a  desert,  but  an 
Alhambra. 

When  Horace  Greeley  made  his  first  visit  to  Europe, 
he  advised  his  countrymen  to  be  sure,  if  they  contem- 
plated a  trip  to  the  Old  World,  to  take  a  long,  earnest 
look  at  the  sun,  for  the  thing  called  sun  in  England  only 
shone  occasionally,  and  bore  little  resemblance  to  its 
American  namesake.  O  that  the  crowned  ruffians  of  Eu- 
rope would  come  across  the  ocean,  and  behold  the  great- 
ness of  our  national  domain!  America  is  the  young  ath- 
lete in  the  world.  The  fruits  and  fleeces  of  our  immense 
valleys  bid  fair  to  rival  the  golden  sands  of  our  streams, 
as  well  as  the  treasures  of  our  enchanted  rocks. 

"  Great  God,  we  thank  Thee  for  this  home, 

This  bounteous  birthland  of  the  free, 
Where  wanderers  from  afar  may  come 

And  breathe  the  air  of  liberty. 
Still  may  her  flowers  untrampled  spring, 

Her  harvests  wave,  her  cities  rise, 
And  yet  till  Time  shall  fold  his  wing, 

Remain  earth's  loveliest  paradise!  " 

We  should  thank  God  for  our  system  of  representative 
Government.  To  show  the  infinite  superiority  of  a  demo- 
cratic Government,  let  us  climb  up  the  political  standard 
of  the  past,  and  compare  the  various  forms  of  civil  rule 
which  have  existed  from  the  beginning.  The  first  form 


APPENDIX.  469 

was  monocratic,  corresponding  with  the  monarchies  of 
Europe;  the  second  form  was  theocratic,  the  rulers  of 
which  were  called  hierarchs ;  the  third  form  was  the  auto- 
cratic, the  few  governing  the  many;  the  fourth  and  best 
was  the  democratic,  God's  great  gift  to  our  fathers.  The- 
ocracies, autocracies,  and  monarchies  are  founded  on  the 
comic  notion  of  a  superiority  of  blood!  How  grand  the 
words  of  Vergniaud :  "Nobility!  That  is,  one  class  cre- 
ated to  rule,  another  to  be  ruled ;  that  is,  one  class  to  live 
in  palaces,  another  to  dwell  in  hovels.  The  nobility !  The 
very  term  is  an  insult  to  the  human  race."  ' 

Right,  eloquent  Frenchman !  There  have  been  two 
widely  dissimilar  views  of  liberty  in  the  world;  one  is  of 
Greek,  and  the  other  of  Teutonic  origin.  According  to 
the  first,  liberty  consists  in  a  share  in  the  Government, 
while  the  Government  demands  the  most  implicit  obedi- 
ence to  its  laws;  the  subject  wras  absorbed  in  the  State. 
The  development  of  the  principle  is  seen  in  the  Spartan, 
the  Greek,  and  Italian  Republics!  This  sentiment  was 
carried  into  Gaul  by  the  Roman  colonies,  and  enters 
largely  into  that  French  idea  of  liberty  which  is  connected 
with  submission  to  an  absolute  emperor. 

That  is  the  best  Government  which  governs  the 
least.  Dean  Swift,  the  Irish  publicist,  has  expressed 
it  in  a  brief  sentence:  "All  government  without  the 
consent  of  the  governed  is  the  very  definition  of  slav- 
ery." Democratic  liberty,  then,  is  the  power  of  acting 
according  to  our  own  will  and  upon  our  own  conclusions 
in  any  manner  not  inconsistent  with  the  well-being  of  the 
community  to  which  we  belong.  It  was  under  the  in- 
spiration of  this  great  view  of  liberty  that  Jefrersqn  wrote 
his  immortal  charter :  that  Henry  IV,  born  Demosthenes, 
uttered  his  sublime  challenge  to  the  Lords  and  Commons 
of  England ;  and  which  the  artillery  of  Washington  echoed 
on  every  battle-field  of  the  Union.  It  is  this  indestruc- 
tible love  of  liberty  which  is  inspiring  the  surging  millions 
of  Old  Europe  to  fling  their  naked  breasts  against  the 
murderous  bayonets  of  villainous  kings. 

Columbia's  greatest  glory  does  not  consist  in  the  ex- 


470  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

tent  of  her  virgin  domain ;  in  the  gorgeousness  of  her  un- 
shorn forests;  in  the  soldiers  who  have  returned  with  the 
laurels  of  triumph  from  every  field  which  their  heroism 
has  made  magnificently  famous;  in  her  navy,  whose  flag 
has  floated  upon  every  shore;  in  her  Congress,  the  elo- 
quence of  which  rivals  that  of  Europe;  in  the  harmony 
and  beauty  of  her  Constitution,  which,  when  the  proudest 
elevations  of  society  were  overturned,  rode  triumphant 
on  the  storm,  preserving  for  the  world  liberty,  humanity, 
and  justice! 

Columbia's  greatest  glory  consists  in  her  civil  and  re- 
ligious liberty.  Here  the  Jew,  the  Catholic,  the  Prot- 
estant, and  even  the  poor  Infidel  can  offer  his  orisons 
according  to  the  dictates  of  conscience.  The  nurse  of 
freedom,  the  school  of  virtue,  the  home  of  the  oppressed ! 
I  love  this  Government.  I  love  its  origin,  bought  by  the 
blood  of  gallant  men.  I  love  it  in  its  progress,  the  earliest 
three,  now  forty  millions.  I  love  it  in  its  personal  power ; 
thirty  millions  stand  ready  to  guard  its  flag  from  insult 
and  danger.  I  love  it  in  its  supremacy;  thirty-six  States 
and  several  Territories  own  the  imperial  sway  of  its 
Congress. 

I  have  met  the  representatives  of  this  young  and 
splendid  Nation  abroad.  I  have  raised  my  hat  in  homage, 
and  said: 

Hail,  brother  of  the  West !  you  have  driven  back  the 
savage,  have  swept  away  mighty  forests,  have  built  great 
cities  as  if  by  magic,  and  built  an  empire  in  a  few  years. 

Hail,  brother  of  the  North !  in  the  learned  professions, 
and  in  all  the  pursuits  of  agriculture,  trade,  and  commerce 
you  have  gained  a  proud  pre-eminence. 

Hail,  brother  of  the  South!  you  have  preserved  the 
ancient  hospitality,  you  have  made  your  highlands  bloom 
with  cotton,  and  your  lowlands  rich  with  waving  fields 
of  rice  and  far-extending  tracts  of  verdant,  luscious  cane. 

Hail,  brother  of  the  East !  you  have  taught  rulers  how 
to  educate  the  many,  and  employers  how  to  bless  the 
laboring  poor.  You  have  drawn  wealth  from  snow- 
capped mountains  and  naked  rocks.  Harvard,  Yale,  and 


APPENDIX.  471 

Princeton  are  the  classic  founts  of  your  greatness,  and 
those  are  your  ships  that  sit  so  gracefully  in  yonder  har- 
bor. And  when  I  thought  of  the  Nation's  charms  of 
beauty,  its  broad,  geographical  unity,  its  brotherhood  of 
kin  and  caste,  I  have  said  with  a  full  heart,  "Hail,  country- 
men of  Washington,  partners  in  blessed  memories  and 
precious  hopes!"  and  a  prayer  as  fervent  as  any  that  ever 
passed  from  my  heart  ascended  to  the  Throne,  that  this 
free  land  might  be  endowed  with  perpetual  peace,  and 
that  its  glory  might  remain  until  the  coming  grandeur  of 
the  Son  of  God !  Contrast  the  so-called  Christian  Govern- 
ment of  England  with  our  own. 

American  Christians,"  thank  God  in  his  temple  for 
your  common  schools,  for  the  freedom  of  your  press,  and 
for  the  great  and  splendid  names  which  already  adorn 
the  history  of  the  Republic.  Compare  the  British  sover- 
eigns with  the  illustrious  men  who  have  been  honored 
with  the  Chief  Magistracy  of  our  Nation,  and  how  con- 
temptibly small  they  appear !  With  the  exception  of  King 
William  III  and  Cromwell,  the  rulers  of  England  were 
a  degraded  and  stupid  race.  How  few  were  the  states- 
men and  economists  among  the  kings!  Where  is  there 
one  among  them  possessing  the  sagacity,  the  multifarious 
endowments,  and  the  moral  grandeur  of  the  godlike 
Washington?  Where  the  extraordinary  abilities,  the  elo- 
quent common  sense,  and  the  gigantic  brain  of  Thomas 
Jefferson?  Where,  in  the  long  line  of  these  brutal  kings, 
can  you  find  statesmanship  and  generalship  like  that  of 
the  lion-hearted  Andrew  Jackson?  We  crown  the  splen- 
did catalogue  by  the  surpassing  name  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln! A  brave,  manly  soul.  With  Cato  the  Censor  we 
look  upon  kings  as  creatures  who  feed  upon  human  flesh, 
regular  cannibals.  Our  Government  has  its  faults;  but, 
comparing  it  with  those  of  Europe,  it  is  like  a  comparison 
of  heaven  and  hell.  Jefferson  said  that  there  is  not  a 
crowned  head  in  Europe  whose  talents  would  entitle  him 
to  be  elected  a  vestryman  in  any  parish  in  America. 

We  should  thank  God  for  the  patriotism  and  sublime 
valor  displayed  during  and  since  the  war.  The  roar  of 


47 2  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

cannon  in  Charleston  Harbor  aroused  the  dormant  pa- 
triotism of  the  land !  All  parties  and  nationalities  entered 
into  a  generous  rivalry!  Never,  since  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost, was  there  seen  so  grand  a  sight!  Patriotism  is  a 
beautiful  and  lofty  principle;  it  binds  man  to  man  in  an 
august  brotherhood;  it  recognizes  a  community  of  in- 
terest; it  makes  the  Laplander  prefer  the  eternal  snows 
of  his  wintry  land,  because  it  is  his  country !  There  is  no 
more  noble  answer  on  record  than  that  which  was  given 
by  a  famous  chief  of  a  savage  tribe  to  some  Europeans 
who  would  have  bribed  him  to  give  up  his  patrimony: 
"We  were  born,"  said  he,  "upon  the  spot;  our  fathers  are 
buried  here.  Shall  we  say  to  their  bones,  Rise  up  and  let 
us  go  hence?"  The  sentiment  of  patriotism  is  universal 
and  indestructible.  It  matters  not  where  we  have  been 
born — whether  upon  the  sunny  plain  or  upon  the  snow- 
covered  summit  of  the  mountain  cliff — the  feeling  is  the 
same.  The  Scotchman  is  affected  by  the  sight  of  a  thistle 
in  a  foreign  land.  It  reminds  him  of  the  country  of  Bruce 
and  Wallace.  The  shamrock,  the  chosen  leaf  of  bard  and 
chief,  stirs  the  hearts  of  Ireland's  children,  suggesting 
beautiful  memories  of  a  heroic  past.  The  Frenchman  is 
aroused  at  a  glimpse  of  the  Heur  de  Us.  It  awakens  pleas- 
ant recollections  of  sunny  France.  This  loyalty  to  one's 
country  is  acknowledged  and  recognized  by  the  fisher- 
man as  he  sits  by  his  cottage  on  the  Atlantic  or  Pacific 
beach,  and  by  the  wild  hunter  of  the  Western  plains.  It 
is  heralded  in  lands  distant  from  each  other,  and  different 
in  political  institutions,  in  the  praise  of  a  William  Tell,  a 
Washington,  a  Brutus,  an  Emmet,  and  a  Mazzini.  It 
nerves  the  arm  and  fires  the  bosom  in  every  scene  and 
vicissitude  of  life;  and  when  the  patriot's  closing  eye  is 
turned  for  the  last  time  to  the  sun  in  the  heavens,  whether 
amid  the  shock  of  steel,  or  from  the  victories  of  peace, 
his  last  thought  is  his  country,  and  his  last  prayer  is  for 
its  prosperity. 

How  grand  the  patriotism  of  our  people !  More  than 
700,000  under  arms  to  guard  the  flag  from  insult  and 
from  danger!  It  is  easy  to  speak  thrillingly  and  raptur- 


APPENDIX.  473 

ously  on  deeds  of  high  enterprise;  and  every  tongue  is 
ready  to  swell  the  praises  of  Columbus,  who  went  forth 
on  the  waste  of  waters  burning  to  snatch  a  New  World 
from  the  grave  of  centuries,  and  to  echo  the  fame  of  Will- 
iam Tell,  who  bade  the  splendid  land  of  lake,  cataract, 
and  mountains,  spurn  the  base  yoke  of  foreign  despots! 
Every  one  admires,  extols  these  daring  and  fiery  spirits! 
But  think  ye  the  noble  patience,  the  unyielding  courage, 
the  unconquered  devotion,  exhibited  upon  the  battle- 
fields of  the  Union,  are  not  as  equally  worthy  of  the  ap- 
plause of  freemen  throughout  the  world?  The  man  who 
would  withhold  the  laurel  from  our  brave  defenders  is  in 
mind  a  fool,  in  heart  a  traitor.  If  the  pulse  beats  not  high 
at  the  recital  of  the  daring  deeds  displayed  at  Lexington, 
Stone  River,  and  Antietam,  a  kind  of  polar  spell  must 
have  chained  the  life's  blood !  Lord  Brougham  once  said, 
"That  the  American  army  was  composed  of  the  scum  of  all 
Europe !"  No,  my  Lord  Imbecile !  The  soldiers  of  the 
Union  were  the  nobility,  the  flower,  the  chivalry  of  the 
land !  They  were  its  bravest  soldiers,  and  many  of  them 
proved  to  be  its  sublime  martyrs.  Wherever  they  went, 
they  carried  in  their  bayonets  order,  liberty,  humanity, 
and  the  loftiest  example  of  stainless  patriotism.  Glori- 
ous in  battle,  illustrious  in  death,  they  stand  higher 
than  the  crested  lords  of  Europe !  Glorious  men !  it  is 
not  for  me  to  do  justice  to  your  triumphs.  May  the 
gratitude  of  your  country  be  eternal !  May  you  never 
have  to  say,  with  the  Roman  patriot,  "I  would  rather 
have  it  asked  why  Cato  had  not  a  statue  than  why  he 
had  one !"  Then  our  illustrious  dead !  Ye  sceptered  im- 
mortals, enthroned  above  the  Nation's  constellation,  your 
memories  will  be  glorious,  pious,  and  immortal ! 

All  Europe  is  catching  the  inspiration  of  our  success. 
Freedom  is  everywhere  advancing  her  dominions.  She 
is  coming  forth  from  the  dungeons  in  all  the  gorgeousness 
of  a  brilliant  retinue,  with  the  brightest  diadem  in  all  the 
world  glittering  upon  her  unblemished  forehead !  Before 
she  attains  the  meridian  of  that  reign  whose  morning 
looks  so  bright,  she  is  hailed  by  the  thrilling  acclamations 


474  UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

of  millions.  Spain,  the  mother  of  Hebrew  poets,  looks  up 
to  the  immortal  Father.  She  has  signalized  her  progress 
among  the  nations  by  taking  'down  the  statue  of  the  de- 
tested Isabella,  and  putting  in  its  stead  that  of  Washing- 
ton. We  hail  her  deliverance  from  the  Bourbon  dynasty. 
Spain  of  Ferdinand  has  disappeared;  the  accursed  In- 
quisition that  devoured  the  fair  Andalusia,  converting  the 
loveliest  spot  in  Europe  into  a  pandemonium,  is  abolished 
forever.  The  pinnacles  of  monarchy  have  been  shivered 
into  atoms  by  the  lightnings  of  Castelar's  grand  elo- 
quence !  Austria's  surging  millions  are  progressing  I  The 
noble  democracy  of  England  are  demanding,  in  tones  of 
thunder,  greater  freedom  and  additional  rights.  The 
countrymen  of  Emmet  are  arming;  they  clasp  their  vir- 
gin bayonets,  like  virgin  brides,  to  their  breasts;  their 
hearts  beat  with  a  holy  palpitation;  and  when  the  great 
day  of  Ireland's  deliverance  shall  come,  their  gallant  blood 
will  be  poured  out  with  a  heroic  prodigality. 

In  every  region  of  the  earth  men  are  waking  up  as 
from  a  nightmare.  The  Moslem  of  the  old  Mogul  Em- 
pire feels  the  scimiter  stir  in  its  scabbard,  and  he  mur- 
murs, "God  is  great."  Japan  opens  her  gates,  and  pagan 
millions  receive  the  gospel  from  American  tongues. 
China  selects  the  gifted  Burlingame  as  her  messenger  to 
the  nations.  The  spirit  of  Washington  is  marching  on! 
France,  gallant,  generous,  polished  nation ;  the  land  of 
quick  thoughts,  bright  swords,  and  fair  women;  the 
France  of  Lafayette — honored  name ! — encompassed  with 
so  much  fame,  has  unfurled  the  banner  of  republicanism, 
and  has  made  her  appeal  to  the  God  of  Nations.  The 
hands  of  the  splendid  but  detestable  Bismarck  are  red 
with  Republican  Frenchmen's  blood.  The  French  Re- 
publicans are  fighting  for  Liberty,  Equality,  Fraternity. 
Against  them  are  arrayed  the  Napoleons,  the  Bourbons, 
the  Orleanists,  and  all  the  remorseless,  marble-hearted 
tyrants  of  Europe.  But  despite  of  all  opposition,  despite 
of  perfidy,  despite  of  fraud,  despite  of  European  hostility, 
I  believe  that  the  Republic  is  unconquered  and  uncon- 
querable. Be  steady,  Frenchmen !  Better  that  your 


APPENDIX.  475 

splendid  city  be  burned  to  cinders  than  that  liberty  should 
be  extinguished  in  Europe.  When  I  remember  the  mag- 
nificent heroism  of  Lafayette  and  his  thirty  thousand 
French  warriors ;  when  I  remember  that  the  friendship  of 
France  was  a  beacon-light  to  our  fathers,  every  drop  of 
blood  that  warms  my  heart  is  in  sympathy  with  the  brave, 
noble  Frenchmen  righting  for  hearth  and  home.  My 
voice  is  but  feeble,  and  could  I  add  millions  to  my  own, 
I  would  pray  God-speed  the  Republic  of  France;  for  its 
triumphs  are  the  triumphs  of  democracy,  the  triumphs 
of  liberty,  and  the  triumphs  of  civilization. 

We  should  thank  God  for  the  abundant  harvests.  The 
glorious  promise  of  seed-time  and  harvest  has  been  ful- 
filled. Farmers,  a  few  months  ago  with  long  faces,  pre- 
dicted a  prolonged  famine.  The  beneficent  Father 
watched  the  seed  during  its  silent  entombment  in  the 
bosom  of  the  earth.  He  moistened  it  with  warm  summer 
showers,  and  shielded  it  from  every  destructive  influence. 
He  fostered,  protected  it,  silently,  invisibly,  uninterrupt- 
edly, until  it  passed  through  its  allotted  stages  of  existence, 
as  first  the  blade,  then  the  ear,  and  then  the  full  corn  in 
the  ear,  till  at  last  Jehovah  seems  walking  visibly  over  the 
smiling  fields,  dropping  fatness  and  scattering  garlands 
of  rejoicing  over  every  succeeding  season.  It  is  to  the 
bountifulness  of  God  we  owe  these  harvest  blessings.  The 
fires  of  heaven  might  have  destroyed  our  cities;  the  hail 
might  have  beaten  down  our  fields  of  corn,  as  in  Egypt 
of  old;  the  frost  might  have  cut  the  tender  blade;  the 
vapors  might  have  spread  the  infection  of  a  withering 
mildew ;  but,  in  the  midst  of  all,  mercy  descends  in  the  form 
of  an  angel,  pouring  from  the  rich  horn  of  Providence 
blessings  unnumbered  over  the  land.  How  truly  may 
it  be  said,  "Thou  waterest  the  ridges  thereof;"  that  is,  by 
the  gentle  exhalations  of  the  dews  or  by  the  soft  showers 
of  the  early  or  latter  rain.  "Thou  settlest  the  furrows 
thereof;  Thou  blessest  the  springing  of  it,"  and  watchest 
over  it  in  its  tenderest  estate  when  just  appearing  above 
the  ground,  defending  it  from  excessive  heat  or  from  the 
extremes  of  cold ;  till  finally  he  bursts  forth  into  the  highly 


476  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

figurative  but  still  beautifully  expressive  climax,  "Thou 
crownest  the  year  with  thy  goodness,  and  thy  paths  drip 
fatness."  With  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel,  may  we  not 
again  say:  "Behold  He  giveth  food  for  cattle;  the  little 
hills  rejoice  together  on  every  side;  the  valleys  stand  so 
thick  with  corn  that  they  laugh  and  sing:  The  joy  of  the 
reapers,  rejoicing  in  the  harvest,  is  heard;  the  yellow  corn 
falls  beneath  the  sickle;  the  sheaves  are  piled  in  shocks; 
the  graining  train  beareth  its  golden  treasures  to  the 
homestead;  the  spacious  barn  is  well  stored,  and  the 
cheerful  sounds  of  harvest  home  are  wafted  in  repeated 
chorus,  and  echo  among  the  hills  and  valleys  of  the  land?" 

A  few  years  ago,  when  the  Atlantic  cable  was  success- 
fully laid,  Cyrus  Field,  full  of  gratitude  to  God  for  the 
triumph  of  his  labors,  sent  five  hundred  dollars  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor  of  his  native  town  in  Massachusetts — 
Stockbridge.  The  gift  was  returned,  with  the  explana- 
tion that  the  money  was  not  needed,  as  there  were  no  poor 
in  the  place ! 

We  should  thank  God  for  home  and  social  blessings. 
Home,  thrice  blessed  wrord !  For  its  pleasures  it  does  not 
depend  upon  the  elegance  which  art  creates,  nor  upon 
the  splendid  pictures  of  the  old  masters  which  adorn 
castle  walls,  nor  upon  the  curtains  of  richest  lace  through 
which  the  light  streams  by  day,  nor  upon  the  golden 
chandeliers  suspended  from  embossed  and  gilded  ceilings, 
nor  upon  broad  acres  and  magnificent  apartments  of  crim- 
son and  gold.  The  best  definition  of  home  that  I  have  ever 
seen,  was  given  by  a  child  when  asked,  "What  is  home?" 
Looking  up  at  his  mother,  he  answered,  "Where  she  is.1' 

"  Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there  is  no  place  like  home." 

Where  love  is,  there  is  home.  Among  the  bright  and 
beautiful  creations  of  our  religion  is  the  charming  spec- 
tacle of  a  happy  family,  connected  by  ties  of  blood,  and 
having  the  same  hopes,  the  same  fears,  the  same  interests, 
and  the  same  joys.  Look  at  such  a  delightful  circle! 
There  are  the  calm  and  the  secret  joys  of  the  domestic 
hearth,  that  bright  and  sacred  spot,  where,  in  bonds  of 


APPENDIX.  477 

holy  affection,  husband  and  wife,  parents  and  children, 
brothers  and  sisters,  mingle  their  purest  thoughts  and 
their  fondest  hopes  in  unrestrained  fellowship. 

No  chalice  of  earthly  bliss  is  so  sparkling  as  that  which 
passes  from  hand  to  hand  in  a  million  American  homes 
to-day.  These  homes  are  Eden's  little  inclosures,  favor- 
ite spots  on  earth's  wide  waste !  In  such  a  home  there  sits 
the  father,  the  guide  and  protector  of  his  household ;  there 
are  the  children  climbing  his  knees,  the  envied  kiss  to 
share ;  and  there  in  the  circle  sits  the  mother,  radiant  with 
maternal  pride.  A  home  like  this  is  only  surpassed  by 
that  Eternal  Home,  where  the  flowers  never  fade  and  the 
crystal  waters  never  cease  tb  send  up  their  heavenly  music. 

"  There  is  a  land  of  every  land  the  pride, 
Beloved  by  Heaven  o'er  all  the  world  beside, 
Where  brighter  suns  dispense  serener  light, 
And  milder  beams  emparadise  the  night : 
The  wandering  mariner,  whose  eye  explores 
The  wealthiest  isles,  the  most  enchanting  shores, 
Views  not  a  realm  so  beautiful  and  fair, 
Nor  breathes  the  spirit  of  a  purer  air. 
In  every  clime  the  magnet  of  his  soul, 
Touched  by  remembrance,  trembles  to  that  pole; 
For  in  this  land  of  Heaven's  peculiar  grace, 
The  heritage  of  Nature's  noblest  race, 
There  is  a  spot  of  earth  supremely  blest, 
A  dearer,  sweeter  spot  than  all  the  rest, 
Where  man,  creation's  tyrant,  casts  aside 
His  sword  and  scepter,  pageantry  and  pride, 
While  in  his  softened  look  benignly  blend 
The  sire,  the  son,  the  husband,  brother,  friend. 
Here  woman  reigns  ;  the  mother,  daughter,  wife, 
Strews  with  fresh  flowers  the  narrow  way  of  life. 
In  the  clear  heaven  of  her  delightful  eye 
An  angel  guard  of  loves  and  graces  lie ; 
Around  her  knees  domestic  duties  meet, 
And  fireside  pleasures  gambol  at  her  feet. 
Where  shall  that  land,  that  spot  of  earth  be  found? 
Art  thou  a  man  ?  a  patriot  ?  look  around ! 
O !  thou  shalt  find,  where'er  thy  footsteps  roam, 
That  land  thy  Country,  and  that  spot  thy  Home." 


47 8  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 


THE  PERORATION. 

My  Thanksgiving  sermon  would  be  incomplete  and 
graceless,  did  it  make  no  grateful  mention  of  the  imperial 
benefaction,  the  gift  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  came  from 
heaven  to  be  our  Savior,  and  then  crowned  his  mission 
upon  the  cross!  Jesus  a  balm  for  every  wound,  a  shel- 
ter in  every  tempest !  Give  thanks  to  the  Supreme  God 
for  all  the  material,  the  rational,  the  physical,  and  the 
spiritual  blessings  of  the  year ;  for  the  extent  and  breadth 
of  the  national  domain,  grander  and  broader  than  that 
of  Rome  in  its  palmiest  days;  for  the  civil  and  religious 
liberty  so  largely  enjoyed  by  every  class  and  color  of  the 
Nation ;  for  the  heroic  patriotism  and  the  triumphant  dar- 
ing of  the  gallant  soldiers,  whose  grand  deaths  in  the 
blaze  of  battle  shed  immortal  luster  around  the  American 
name;  for  the  thousand  battle-fields  made  magnificently 
famous  in  our  history,  each  one  a  Marathon  or  a  Ther- 
mopylae; for  the  gracious  and  abundant  harvest  which 
waved  and  glittered  like  a  golden  banner;  for  the  signal 
prosperity  of  the  Nation,  the  smoke  of  a  million  factories 
glooms  the  air,  and  the  glimmering  of  our  unconquered 
flag  is  gleaming  upon  every  sea;  for  the  iron  band  which 
binds  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  and  belts  a  whole 
continent  with  a  golden  girdle  of  strength  and  union :  for 
the  joys  of  home,  that  magic  and  consecrated  spot ;  for  a 
free  press,  a  free  gospel,  and  a  free  land.  The  land  of  our 
love  and  affection  stands  to-day  majestic  and  unapproach- 
able amidst  the  devotion  of  forty  millions  of  fervid,  daunt- 
less, enthusiastic  hearts.  Every  nation  in  the  Old  World 
feels  the  fresh  breezes  coming  from  a  country  of  freedom. 
Bright  as  a  sun-flash  and  glorious  as  the  God  of  day 
the  radiant  form  of  the  Republic  appears  abroad.  Think 
of  the  shining  paragons,  the  founders  of  our  Government ! 
What  a  grand  array  of  brilliant  names!  George  Wash- 
ington, an  angel  in  human  form ;  Franklin,  who  tamed  the 
lightning  and  made  the  thunder  sweet  music;  then  the 
brightest  jewel  in  our  crown,  the  consummate  flower  of 
the  century,  Abraham  Lincoln !  Think  also  of  our  lit- 


APPENDIX.  479 

erary  glories !  We  can  point  to  such  essayists  as  Emer- 
son, Whipple,  Holmes,  Lowell ;  to  such  historians  as  Ban- 
croft, Irving,  Prescott,  and  Motley;  to  such  soldiers  as 
Sherman,  Grant,  Thomas,  Meade,  Rosecrans,  and  Mc- 
Clellan ;  to  such  statesmen  as  Trumbull,  Sumner,  Pendle- 
ton,  Seymour,  Chase,  and  Colfax;  to  such  sculptors  as 
Powers  and  Crawford;  to  such  orators  as  the  inspired 
Simpson,  and  Phillips  of  the  golden  tongue.  Shall  not 
the  contemplation  of  these  incomparable  national  bless- 
ings cause  to  arise  from  our  united  hearts,  as  from  a  living 
altar,  the  incense  of  adoring  praise  to  the  footstool  of  the 
Majesty  Divine?  Sons  and  daughters  of  the  Most  High, 
take  down  your  harps  from  the  willows,  and  break  forth 
into  singing:  "Praise  God  in  his  sanctuary;  praise  him  in 
the  firmament  of  his  power;  praise  him  for  his  majestic 
acts;  praise  him  and  be  exceedingly  glad,  men  of  the 
South,  for  the  poisonous  snake  of  slavery  has  been  chased 
from  your  blooming  plantations;  praise  him,  ye  Chris- 
tians, for  redemption,  for  a  harp  and  crown  in  the  eternal 
mansions;  praise  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is 
within  me  bless  his  holy  name!" 


RESPONSE   TO   THE   TOAST,   GEORGE  WASHING- 
TON AND  ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

DELIVERED  IN  PARIS,  JUI,Y  4,  1882. 

WHILE  in  Paris  I  was  called  upon  by  General  McAd- 
dras,  a  Hiberno  Frenchman,  who  married  an  Ameri- 
can lady  of  great  beauty  and  wealth.  He  lived  in  great 
style.  He  offered  to  drive  me  out  to  Versailles,  where  there 
was  to  be  a  celebration  of  the  anniversary  of  the  French 
generals  who  helped  Washington.  I  gladly  accepted  the 
invitation.  He  pointed  out  many  of  the  historic  spots 
so  dear  and  yet  so  painful,  many  of  them,  to  every  French- 
man's heart !  I  looked  with  admiration  at  many  of  the 
peaceful  glories,  such  as  paintings,  temples,  and  observa- 
tories, erected  by  the  last  Napoleon  to  hide  his  perjury, 


480  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

his  treason,  and  his  murder  of  its  best  people.  He  was  a 
perjurer  in  the  deliberate  violation  of  the  solemn  oath  to 
uphold  the  Constitution.  He  was  a  traitor,  in  debauching 
the  soldiers.  He  was  a  murderer,  for  he  shot  down  three 
thousand  Parisians  like  wild  beasts.  Few,  indeed,  who 
read  his  history  wrill  envy  the  life  of  Dictator  Bonaparte. 
A  poor  Frenchman  once  stood  over  the  coffin  of  a  dead 
despot,  saying,  "He  is  dead;  let  him  remain  dead."  So 
we  say  of  the  last  of  the  Napoleons,  "He  is  dead !  Let 
him  remain  dead." 

Having  arrived  at  Versailles,  the  scene  baffles  all  de- 
scription. The  woods,  the  flowers,  the  lakes,  the  ponds, 
the  fountains,  bronzed  by  the  sheen  of  summer,  sparkled 
as  they  never  sparkled  before.  The  beauty  and  quiet 
splendor  was  to  me  a  rapture;  the  aroma  breathed  from 
golden  blossoms,  and  the  fragrance  on  which  it  was  borne, 
was  a  luxury. 

But  to  return  to  our  delightful  trip.  After  riding 
twelve  miles  through  the  most  enchanting  scenery,  Ver- 
sailles, with  its  magnificent  fountains  and  statuary,  bursts 
upon  us  in  all  its  glory.  I  was  met  by  a  committee,  and 
conducted  to  the  statues,  where  a  vast  crowd  had  assem- 
bled. Several  Frenchmen  spoke ;  then  my  turn  came,  and 
I  delivered  this  address  upon  Washington  and  Lincoln. 
The  Paris  correspondent  of  the  New  York  Herald  cabled 
an  account  of  the  proceedings. 

ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

Not  in  words  beautifully  colored  with  the  lights  of 
this  brilliant  scene,  this  festival  of  memory,  this  festival 
of  patriotism*  this  festival  of  Union,  do  I  wish  to  speak 
of  the  illustrious  man,  whose  name  is  immortally  associ- 
ated with  the  proudest  recollections  of  the  last  thirty  years 
of  American  history. 

In  responding  to  the  part  of  the  toast  which  your 
great  goodness  of  heart  has  assigned  me,  I  must  confess 
myself  humbled  and  exalted.  Abraham  Lincoln,  the  in- 
comparable patriot,  whose  name  is  blessed  in  every  land 
where  civilization  is  understood,  whose  immortality  is 


APPENDIX.  481 

established  and  revered  where  heads  decked  with  earthly 
crowns  are  allowed  to  pass  unheeded, — his  honored  name 
shall  be  a  passport  to  every  American  journeying  through- 
out the  world  forever.  The  young  generations  of  the 
coming  time  shall  rise  up  when  his  great  achievements  are 
recalled,  and  the  old  shall  be  proud  of  his  memory.  Bless- 
ings shall  be  eternally  connected  with  his  name.  Flowers 
shall  pave  the  way  of  his  children's  children,  and  the  dark- 
browed  race  shall  encircle  his  head  as  crowns  of  gold  never 
encircled  the  heads  of  emperors. 

Greece  had  her  days  of  glory;  but  her  own  Pericles 
laid  the  foundation  of  that  despotism  around  her,  which 
was  consummated  by  Alexander.  Rome  mourned  the 
departure  of  her  liberties,  when  her  Caesar  passed  the 
Rubicon.  Carthage  crumbled  into  nothingness  from  the 
insatiable  ambition  of  her  chiefs.  The  Republics  of  Ven- 
ice and  Geneva  sunk  unpitied  and  forgotten  into  the 
vilest  servility  before  the  blighting  breath  of  a  pampered 
aristocracy.  It  is  to  the  immortal  credit  of  Lincoln  that 
he  left  the  country  stronger,  freer,  and  grander  than  he 
found  it.  He  found  it  verging  upon  ruin ;  he  rescued  it 
from  destruction.  He  found  it  full  of  perils;  he  left  it 
honored  and  respected.  He  found  it  cursed  with  slavery; 
he  left  it  free  and  glorious.  He  found  it  disunited ;  he  left 
it  united.  He  found  it  weak  and  crippled;  he  left  it  vic- 
torious and  triumphant. 

Rise  up,  O  Americans,  and  pay  immortal  homage  to 
the  memory  of  Abraham  Lincoln! 

Let  Germany,  the  land  of  gorgeous  imagination  and 
of  deep  thought;  France,  the  land  of  bright  fancies  and 
of  brilliant  men ;  Sweden,  the  land  of  the  brave  Gustavus 
Adolphus;  Denmark,  England,  and  Switzerland,  join  in 
the  universal  chorus !  Let  not  Ireland  refuse  to  pluck 
from  her  green  bosom  a  rich  shamrock,  and  place  it  upon 
our  martyr's  grave.  Let  all  nations  eternally  enthrone 
the  memory  of  Lincoln. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  speak  of  his  acts;  the  grandest 
was  his  Proclamation  of  Emancipation — that  New  Testa- 
ment of  Freedom — which  shook  the  world  to  its  center. 
31 


482  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

It  was  everywhere  hailed  as  a  signal  of  hope  and  as  an 
emblem  of  redemption.  The  African  heard  it  upon  his 
burning  sands,  and  he  felt  his  chains  grow  a  little  lighter. 
The  Circassians,  keepers  of  the  gates  of  Asia,  heard  it 
on  their  mountains  and  proclaimed  it  through  their  val- 
leys, telling  them  that  though  the  Czar  was  great,  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  was  greater.  The  Poles,  generous  and  chiv- 
alrous, heard  it,  and  they  buckled  on  their  swords  once 
more  to  fight.  Italy,  by  her  vineyards  and  cornfields 
beneath  her  sapphire  sky,  heard  it,  and  her  sons  from  the 
white  summit  of  ^Etna  waved  boldly  the  torch  of  Eu- 
ropean revolution. 

It  was  the  immortal  gift  of  freedom  to  the  bondmen 
of  the  world ;  the  same  freedom  which  is  implanted  in  all 
hearts  by  the  good  God;  the  same  freedom  which  is  en- 
shrined by  ten  thousand  glorious  memories;  the  same 
freedom  which  nerved  Brutus  to  drive  out  the  Gauls ;  the 
same  freedom  that  shines  with  heaven-born  radiance  in 
the  darkest  prison ;  that  descends  with  the  martyr  into  the 
fiery  furnace,  whispering  words  of  divinest  melody  into 
his  ears,  and  transforming  the  hot  coals  into  flowers  of 
rarest  beauty  and  sweetest  fragrance. 

Where  shall  I  begin  to  estimate  the  elements  of 
his  greatness?  If  his  character  were  before  me  as  a 
chart,  where  shall  I  put  my  finger?  Among  his  many 
shining  qualities,  his  honesty  and  sincerity  were  pre-emi- 
nent. He  was  honest  to  the  core !  The  universal  verdict 
of  friend  and  foe  was  the  famous  saying,  "Honest  Old 
Abe." 

The  cunning  artists  of  Italy  boasted  that  they  could 
make  those  Venetian  drinking-glasses  that  shivered  at 
the  touch  of  poison !  So  the  transparent  crystal  of  Lin- 
coln's soul  recoiled  from  the  insincere  and  the  dishonor- 
able! Did  honesty  stand  alone?  No!  He  was  coura- 
geous !  Never  was  there  a  braver  heart !  He  would  have 
died  with  the  three  hundred  at  Thermopylae;  he  would 
have  fought  to  the  last  with  Washington ;  he  would  have 
mounted  the  scaffold  with  Emmet.  He  was  a  statesman ; 
a  statesman  who  saw  that  his  country  could  not  remain 


APPENDIX.  483 

half  free  and  half  slave;  a  statesman  whose  memory  will 
be  embalmed  in  the  warm  hearts  of  millions  forever;  a 
statesman  whose  name  will  be  a  household  word  and 
articulated  in  the  first  lispings  of  infancy;  a  statesman 
whose  image  will  be  borne  upon  the  brow  of  beauty;  a 
statesman  whose  life  will  be  to  the  oppressed  of  Europe, 
in  their  poverty,  captivity,  and  chains,  resurrection,  lib- 
erty, and  glory.  He  was  an  orator  of  transcendent  power; 
his  eloquence,  while  lacking  the  classic  and  imaginative 
beauty  of  Sumner,  the  vigorous  and  commanding  author- 
ity of  Webster,  nevertheless  charmed,  subdued,  and  in- 
structed multitudes. 

Perhaps  the  finest  displays  of  his  oratory  were  those 
debates  with  his  illustrious  rival,  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  an 
American  full  of  electricity,  full  of  passion,  and  whose 
dying  message  to  his  sons,  "Stand  by  the  Constitution 
and  the  laws,"  has  endeared  his  memory  to  every  loyal 
heart.  He  had  much  of  the  power — foudroyante — of 
Mirabeau,  the  French  orator,  who  exclaimed  of  his  op- 
ponents, "When  right,  I  argue  with  them;  when  wrong, 
I  crush  them." 

Abraham  Lincoln!  I  see  him  afar  off,  dwelling  in 
beautiful  peace.  He  is  where  Miltiades,  Tell,  Hampden, 
Bruce,  Tone,  Emmet,  are  before  him. 

Proud  be  the  flight  of  America's  eagle  over  his  tomb ! 
May  no  foeman  to  the  Republic  ever  plant  a  standard 
there!  May  the  soft,  warm  earth  that  holds  him  never 
lack  as  honest  and  as  patriotic  a  President !  Sing  his  dirge 
in  the  words  of  Mrs.  Ford,  a  true  poet : 

"  Toll  the  bells,  and  speak  in  whispers, 

For  a  hero  lieth  low  ! 
Death  has  struck  him  down  while  hurling 

Proud  defiance  at  the  foe! 
But  the  life  so  steadfast,  loyal 

To  its  purpose,  great  and  high, 
In  the  land  shall  stay  and  triumph ; 

For  the  faithful  never  die." 

If  it  be  asked  who  bound  the  United  States  and  un- 
bound the  slave,  the  answer  will  be,  Abraham  Lincoln! 


484  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

If  it  be  asked  who  saved  the  Union,  one  name  will  an- 
swer, Abraham  Lincoln !  If  it  be  asked  who  raised  the 
credit  of  the  Nation  and  the  prosperity  of  the  Nation  to 
an  unexampled  standard,  one  name  suffices,  Abraham 
Lincoln !  If  it  be  asked  who,  with  the  world  against  him, 
England  against  him,  the  devil  against  him,  rescued  the 
drowning  banner  of  the  Republic  from  destruction,  and 
placed  it  so  high  that,  like  Mount  Tabor,  it  is  crowned 
with  an  eternal  sun,  the  answer  will  be,  Abraham  Lin- 
coln !  If  asked  what  conqueror  ever  exercised  such  gener- 
osity, such  friendship,  such  magnanimity  to  a  fallen  foe, 
the  perpetual  warmth  and  brightness  of  the  memories 
and  the  hopes  of  the  chivalrous  North,  millions  answer, 
"None  so  munificent  to  the  conquered  as  Abraham  Lin- 
coln !"  His  was  the  task,  and  his  shall  be  the  renown.  It 
was  said  of  one  of  the  ancient  saints,  who  died  a  hundred 
years  ago,  that  a  votive  wreath  of  flowers  was  buried  with 
him.  Recently,  when  the  good  man's  tomb  was  opened, 
the  body  had  moldered  into  dust,  but  the  flowers  were 
beautiful  and  fragrant.  So  it  will  be  with  our  martyred 
President.  All  hail,  thou  greater  than  Washington ! 
Washington  and  Lincoln — the  one  the  founder,  the  other 
the  savior  of  the  Republic.  Immortal  Lincoln !  Immor- 
tal in  the  warm  hearts  of  the  oppressed  millions,  who  felt 
their  chains  grow  a  little  lighter  at  the  mention  of  his 
name !  Immortal  in  the  thanksgiving  and  cheers  of  the 
emancipated  Negroes,  whose  eyes  moisten  as  they  recall 
his  great  Proclamation !  Immortal  in  the  incorruptible 
vitality  of  the  Nation,  the  wealthiest  and  grandest,  estab- 
lished upon  an  imperishable  foundation !  Immortal  in 
the  disgust  and  anger  of  despots,  who  hated  him  because 
the  preservation  of  the  Union  meant  their  downfall !  Let 
the  oppressor  die,  let  him  be  carried  to  the  grave  decked 
with  all  the  trappings  of  splendor !  I  will  visit  the  grave 
of  Lincoln,  and  repeat  the  spell-word  of  weak  nations, 
Resurgam!  resurgam!  Immortal  in  the  glory  of  that  flag 
carried  by  our  soldiers  into  battle,  where  the  Eumenides 
wave  their  torches  and  the  trumpet  of  Alecto  peals,  nerved 
and  quickened  by  the  faith  that  the  sun,  bursting  from  it 


APPENDIX.  485 

in  a  flood  of  storm  and  glory,  will  maintain  its  light  as  did 
the  sun  of  victory  over  the  mountains  of  the  Almonte! 
Immortal  Lincoln,  I  salute  thy  memory  with  all  the  fervor 
of  my  soul ! 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

Revolutions  are  the  landmarks  of  history!  As  the 
mountain  springs  from  the  dead  level  of  the  plain,  so  revo- 
lutions are  monumental  records  of  the  progress  and  pros- 
perity of  nations.  Sometimes  these  upheavals  are  the 
scourges  and  disasters  of  the  race;  but  more  frequently 
they  are  the  pioneers  of  those  blessings  of  civil  and  relig- 
ious liberty  which  follow  the  wars  for  right  and  justice, 
when  nations,  crushed  to  the  earth,  rise  with  a  heroic 
grandeur,  and  fling  off  the  superincumbent  weight  of 
despotism.  The  Revolution  commenced  by  that  revered 
man  in  whose  honor  we  are  assembled,  was  for  the  uplift- 
ing and  amelioration  of  mankind.  Rising  against  a  bril- 
liant and  powerful  Government,  Washington  locked  arms 
with  an  enemy  possessing  boundless  power.  Rise  up,  O 
Americans,  and  pay  reverential  homage  to  the  fame  of 
Washington !  The  birthday  of  such  a  man  is  a  festival. 
It  is  a  festival  of  memory,  a  festival  of  love,  a  festival  of 
patriotism,  a  festival  of  truth.  Brilliant  and  enthusiastic 
though  this  assembly  be,  it  is  only  a  small  and  insignifi- 
cant part  of  the  mighty  hosts  who,  at  this  same  hour,  com- 
memorate in  speech,  sermon,  and  song  the  virtues  and 
deeds  of  the  matchless  and  incomparable  American. 
Wherever  the  stars  shine  to-night,  upon  land  and  wave, 
thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  liberty-loving  hearts 
will  travel  back  to  Old  Virginia,  where  he  first  looked 
out  upon  the  grand  and  beautiful  image  of  his  native  land ; 
back  to  the  banks  of  the  Rappahannock,  where  he  spent 
his  youth ;  back  to  the  wars  against  the  French,  where  he 
felt  the  buddings  of  military  ambition;  back  to  that  his- 
toric Congress  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  was  commis- 
sioned as  commander  of  the  Revolutionary  army;  back 
to  Valley  Forge,  where  his  tears  fell  copiously  as  he 
looked  upon  the  sufferings  of  his  brave  soldiers;  back  to 


486  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

that  sacramental  scene,  where  he  bowed  and  partook  of 
those  emblems  which  signify  redemption;  back  to  York- 
town,  where  the  sword  of  Cornwallis  was  surrendered, 
and  the  banners  of  England  went  down  in  defeat;  back 
to  the  Hudson,  where  some  foolish  and  disreputable  sym- 
pathizers with  monarchy  offered  him  a  crown,  but  he 
proudly  repelled  the  infamous  proposal,  anticipating  by 
a  hundred  years  the  noble  sentiment  of  the  illustrious 
Hungarian,  that  any  honest' man  would  scorn  to  wear 
a  crown ;  back  to  the  splendid  morning  of  freedom,  when 
he  stood  upon  the  steps  of  the  Capitol,  and  took  the  oath 
as  President  of  the  United  States ;  back  to  Vernon's  hal- 
lowed grounds,  where  his  sainted  dust  sleeps  in  the  gran- 
deur of  eternal  peace.  This  is  not  an  American  celebra- 
tion ;  it  is  the  world's.  Everywhere  throughout  the  conti- 
nents, the  islands,  and  the  cities  of  the  earth,  wherever 
there  is  a  prisoner  of  liberty  and  a  friend  to  humanity, 
his  eye  turns  instinctively  to  these  Western  States,  where 
millions,  driven  from  their  native  countries  by  the  rods 
and  bayonets  of  their  oppressors,  have  found  a  refuge 
and  a  home.  For  as  one  has  beautifully  said  (alas !  whose 
voice  we  shall  never  hear  again !),  that  Washington's 
was  a  memory  which  can  not  be  effaced — a  bright  and 
imperishable  fact  which  perpetuates  itself  in  every  clime, 
in  every  season,  year  after  year,  with  the  promise  that  its 
vitality  shall  be  enduring !  In  the  fragrant  land  of  the  pine 
and  the  palm  tree,  where  the  bones  of  Columbus  lie,  there 
are  hearts  which  beat  fondly  in  the  remembrance  of  this 
day.  Beneath  the  dome  which  spans  the  coffin  of  the 
great  soldier  of  France,  the  countrymen  of  Lafayette  men- 
tion with  French  devotion  the  name  of  Washington.  Far 
down  the  ocean,  in  those  cities  of  the  South,  whose  foun- 
dations were  laid  by  the  cavaliers  of  Isabella,  Spain,  the 
land  of  illustrious  memories,  in  Castelar's  thrilling  tones, 
hears  the  echo  of  that  voice  which  we,  a  century  ago, 
heard  declare  to  the  desponding  patriots:  "I  will  raise  a 
thousand  men,  equip  them  at  my  own  expense,  and 
march  to  the  help  of  the  men  of  Boston."  By  the  Aus- 
tralian mountain  lakes,  where  the  waters  mingle  with  the 


APPENDIX.  487 

yellow  sands,  the  flag  of  America  floats  from  a  miner's 
home  in  that  far-distant  land.  In  Ireland  there  is  not  a 
city  nor  a  town,  from  Cork  to  the  Giant's  Causeway, 
where  the  prayer  does  not  bubble  up  in  a  million  hearts, 
that  the  Republic  founded  by  Washington  may  be  coeval 
with  the  coming  grandeur  of  the  eternal  Son  of  God. 

Washington  was  born  on  the  22d  of  February,  1732, 
in  Westmoreland  County,  Virginia.  The  father  died 
when  he  was  but  ten  years  old.  The  care  of  the  youth 
devolved  upon  the  mother,  of  whom  he  ever  afterwards 
spoke  with  loving  tenderness.  In  his  fourteenth  year  he 
contemplated  entering  the  royal  navy,  but  God  overruled 
this  arrangement.  At  seventeen  he  became  a  land  sur- 
veyor, making  twenty  dollars  a  day.  At  twenty-one  he 
was  appointed  aide  to  General  Braddock  in  the  war 
against  the  French.  At  twenty-seven  he  married  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  Martha  Custis,  and  settled 
down  to  farming  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac.  In  1774 
he  was  selected  delegate  to  the  Congress  which  met  in 
Philadelphia,  when,  at  the  nomination  of  John  Adams,  he 
was  made  chief  of  the  national  forces.  England  had  no 
conception  of  the  character  of  the  men  who  inaugurated 
the  Revolution.  Her  own  degraded  and  impoverished 
subjects  at  home  bowed  the  knee  and  bent  the  neck  before 
royalty,  and  received  their  kicks  without  a  murmur.  It 
was  expected  that  the  Colonists  would  be  as  docile  and 
cringing.  "They  misunderstood  us,"  said  Washington. 
Yes,  indeed,  it  was  a  fatal  misunderstanding.  "We  have 
thrown  a  pebble  at  a  sleeping  mastiff,"  said  Walpole.  "It 
can  not  injure  him,  but  it  may  excite  him  to  rend  us  in 
pieces."  The  prediction  proved  a  true  one,  for  George 
Washington  snatched  thirteen  of  the  brightest  jewels  out 
of  the  King  of  England's  crown,  and  planted  them  in  the 
banner  of  American  democracy  forever.  Americans 
know,  or  ought  to  know,  something  of  the  causes  which 
produced  the  Revolution  of  our  fathers.  They  know  of 
the  Stamp  Act,  which  imposed  taxation  without  repre- 
sentation, and  that  a  man  in  Virginia  said  that  the  people 
of  the  Colony  would  not  obey  any  laws  which  were  not 


488  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

made  by  itself.  They  know  that  certain  Bostonians  got 
angry  at  the  taxation  of  their  tea,  and  upon  one  fine  morn- 
ing they  threw  the  chests  into  the  sea.  They  know  that 
when  the  news  reached  England,  the  king  and  his  min- 
isters were  thrown  into  a  royal  fit.  They  know  that  war 
meetings  were  held,  in  which  independence  was  boldly 
advocated.  They  know  that  the  citizens  of  Carolina  met 
in  churches,  and  resolved  to  boycott  those  traitorous 
Yankees  who  were  for  the  king.  They  know  that  the  war 
came,  and  the  result.  They  know  of  the  Liberty  Bell  in 
Philadelphia,  on  which  was  inscribed  the  legend,  "Pro- 
claim liberty  throughout  the  land  to  all  the  dwellers 
thereof !"  They  know  that  the  Liberty  boys  of  New  York 
dashed  down  the  equestrian  statue  of  the  King  of  Eng- 
land, and  that  the  gentle  women  melted  it  into  forty  thou- 
sand bullets,  and  sent  it  back  to  the  stupid  monarch  in 
the  bodies  of  his  red:coated  murderers.  They  know  that 
Edmund  Burke,  the  great  Irishman,  whose  name  renders 
our  praise  superfluous,  the  equal  of  Plato  in  the  Academy 
and  the  peer  of  Cicero  in  the  Senate,  took  his  stand  by  the 
immortal  American  rebel,  Washington,  and  vindicated  in 
words  of  imperishable  eloquence  the  claims  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary States  to  virtue  and  liberty.  It  is  the  glory  of 
Burke's  countrymen  that  the  first  voice  ever  raised  in  the 
Old  World  to  lift  up  the  drowning  banner  of  American 
Independence  was  that  of  their  great  countryman. 

Time  does  not  permit  to  review  the  deeds  of  Wash- 
ington. The  first  important  event  of  his  soldier-life  was 
the  capture  of  Fort  Duquesne  from  the  French.  Its  im- 
portance has  never  been  duly  considered.  Had  the 
French  been  successful,  they  would  have  acquired  a  lord- 
ship over  the  entire  West.  Their  customs  and  morals 
would  probably  have  been  stamped  upon  the  people  whom 
they  conquered.  It  was  in  this  campaign  that  Washing- 
ton was  first  taught  his  faculty  as  a  soldier ;  the  advantages 
of  natives  fighting  in  the  forests  over  foreigners ;  the  help 
rendered  by  the  swamps,  the  rivers,  and  the  thickets ;  the 
utter  helplessness  of  the  most  disciplined  soldiers  before 
the  shrewdness  of  the  hunter  upon  his  own  ground.  In 


APPENDIX.  489 

these  skirmishes  through  the  wilderness  Washington 
learned  a  lesson  which  he  never  forgot. 

The  second  magnificent  work  of  Washington  was  the 
foundation  of  this  stately  Republic.  There  were  repub- 
lics, it  is  true,  before  his  day ;  but  it  was  reserved  for  him 
and  his  illustrious  compeers  to  give  form  and  sinew  to 
the  new  and  better  government  of  the  people,  by  the 
people,  and  for  the  people.  Patrick  Henry,  with  his  great 
Homeric  eloquence,  was  a  freshet  in  strength,  a  sea  in 
abundance.  Thomas  Jefferson,  calm,  collective,  was  the 
brains  of  his  age,  and  carved  out  of  it  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  Washington,  brave,  wise,  and  reflective, 
was  the  skillful  master-builder. 

The  next  and  last  labor  of  Washington  was  his  Fare- 
well Address,  in  which  he  laid  down  immortal  truths  for 
our  imitation  and  emulation.  He  warns  us  against  sec- 
tionalism, partyism,  centralization,  and  military  despo- 
tism, as  the  great  foes  of  our  institutions;  commends 
morality,  education,  and  religion  as  the  safeguards  of 
republican  liberty.  It  was  the  rare  privilege  of  Washing- 
ton, not  only  to  lead  the  armies  of  his  country  to  success, 
but  to  give  vitality  to  the  idea  of  popular  Government. 
This  fundamental  truth  had  been  the  dream  of  the  sage, 
the  song  of  the  poet,  and  the  theme  of  the  orator.  For 
this  Locke  unveiled  the  mystery  of  philosophy.  For  this 
Sir  Thomas  More  reveled  in  bright  visions.  For  this 
Milton  struck  the  harp.  But  never  until  the  foundation 
of  our  American  Constitution  was  it  made  the  basis  of  a 
free  Government. 

Washington  was  the  typical  American.  It  has  occa- 
sionally occurred  that  a  people  has  been  incarnated  in  a 
single  individual.  Pericles  has  been  set  down  as  the  rep- 
resentative Greek,  Caesar  as  the  representative  Roman, 
Hampclen  as  the  representative  Briton,  O'Connell  as  the 
representative  Irishman ;  and  American,  George  Wash- 
ington !  He  is  the  foremost  among  the  children  of  men. 
Now,  although  our  country,  in  the  hundred  years  of  its 
existence,  has  many  eminent  names,  yet  before  and  be- 
yond all  others  we  rank  the  Father  of  his  Country,  and 


49°  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

him  we  would  present  as  the  consummate  fullness  of 
manifold  perfections,  immeasurably  the  largest  and  might- 
iest of  all.  Had  he  been  among  the  old  Greeks,  he  would 
have  been  worshiped  as  a  god,  and  the  name  of  Washing- 
tion  would,  with  the  name  of  Hercules  and  Theseus,  have 
taken  its  place  among  the  eternal  stars. 

Washington  was  American  in  his  patriotism.  He 
loved  his  country  as  the  Roman  loved  the  City  of  the 
Seven  Hills,  or  the  Athenian  the  City  of  the  Violet  Crown. 
Her  vast  mountains,  her  picturesque  lakes,  her  magnifi- 
cent prairies,  and  her  splendid  landscapes  were  all  dear 
to  his  heart.  If  Cromwell  once  said  of  Ireland,  as  he 
gazed  upon  the  Lakes  of  Killarney,  "Truly  this  is  a  land 
worth  fighting  for,"  so  every  American  may  be  justly 
proud  of  his  country,  the  land  of  Washington — the  coun- 
try of  which  Thomas  Davis  finely  sang : 

"  There  are  lands  where  manly  toil 

Surely  reaps  the  crop  it  sows, 
Glorious  woods  and  teeming  soil, 
Where  the  broad  Missouri  flows  ;  " 

of  which  Charles  Phillips  grandly  said :  "The  oppressed  of 
all  countries,  the  martyrs  of  every  creed,  find  refuge,  their 
industry  encouraged,  their  piety  respected,  their  ambition 
animated,  with  no  restraint  but  those  laws  which  are  the 
same  to  all,  in  which  so  many  Irishmen's  fortunes  have 
been  so  resplendently  redeemed." 

The  greatest  element  in  Washington's  life  was  his 
transparent  sincerity.  As  a  friend  he  was  faithful,  tender, 
and  helpful.  His  private  life  was  stainlessly  pure.  There 
were  no  skeletons  in  his  closet.  He  hated  shams,  and  his 
lofty  soul  recoiled  from  the  appearance  of  anything  like 
hypocrisy.  The  cunning  artists  believed  that  they  could 
fashion  their  Venetian  drinking-glasses  that  shivered  at 
the  touch  of  poison ;  and  so  the  clear  crystal  of  Washing- 
ton's soul  shuddered  at  the  contact  of  the  base  and  false. 
It  is  said  that  he  spent  $75,000  out  of  his  private  fortune 
to  carry  on  the  war,  and  that  during  his  official  life  as 
President  and  general  of  the  army  he  never  accepted  a 


APPENDIX.  49 1 

dollar  for  his  services.  Compare  the  British  sovereigns 
with  our  Revolutionary  fathers,  and  how  insignificant 
they  appear !  Where  among  them  all  will  you  be  able  to 
construct  a  character  of  such  symmetrical  proportions 
and  moral  grandeur  as  that  beheld  in  Washington? 
Gather  into  one  the  mental  strength  shared  by  this  long 
line  of  contemptible  creatures,  and  you  could  not  con- 
struct one  brain  of  such  gigantic  proportions  as  that  ex- 
hibited by  our  imperial  Jefferson.  Glean  from  all  along 
the  pitiable  harvest  of  this  long  succession  of  crowned 
heads  all  the  statesmanship  you  can  find,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  be  compared  with  our  two  Adamses.  We  hear 
much  said  by  our  dudes*  toadies,  third-rate  preachers, 
every  callow  student  and  boy  statesman,  rotten  before 
they  are  ripe,  about  the  good  Victoria.  It  might  prove, 
as  a  Methodist  bishop — Haven — once  said:  "A  more  dif- 
ficult question  than  that  of  the  most  abstruse  mathemat- 
ical problem  to  demand  of  those  who  are  so  laudatory 
one  solitary  instance  of  real,  positive  goodness  which  has 
emanated  from  that  woman  in  her  character  as  sovereign 
during  her  whole  reign."  Negative  goodness  we  may 
allow  her;  just  the  kind  of  goodness  we  should  look  for 
in  a  kitten.  During  her  forty-five  years'  reign  she  has 
stolen  from  the  British  people  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
millions  of  dollars.  With  a  salary  of  four  millions  annu- 
ally, with  fifteen  hundred  servants,  with  seventy  chaplains 
and  sixteen  thousand  bribed  parsons  to  pray  for  her  royal 
soul,  she  has  never  performed  a  noble  and  humane  deed. 
Where  among  all  these  female  monarchs  will  you  find 
such  a  beautiful  character  as  Martha  Washington,  or 
Julia  Ward  Howe,  or  Mrs.  Delia  Parnell,  the  daughter  of 
our  proudest  naval  hero,  Commodore  Stewart,  and  the 
proud  mother  of  Ireland's  matchless  and  immortal  Par- 
nell. We  hereby  challenge  proof  of  the  first  great  nat- 
urally beneficial  act  coming  from  any  one  of  these  royal 
ciphers,  who,  in  the  words  of  Cato  the  Censor,  are  "crea- 
tures who  feed  upon  human  flesh ;"  that  is  to  say,  regu- 
lar cannibals.  There  is  more  true  refinement  of  feeling, 
more  resistless  human  tenderness,  in  any  one  of  the  moth- 


49 2  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

ers,  wives,  daughters  of  soldiers  and  citizens,  noble  and 
elect  ladies,  who  served  during  the  war  as  bridesmaids 
at  the  marriage  of  Union  and  Liberty,  and  who  own  with 
exulting  pride  that  they  are  the  daughters  of  such  a  land ! 

I  remember  when  in  Columbia  during  the  war  a  ven- 
erable woman,  the  Mother  Superioress  of  a  convent.  She 
knew  many  of  the  Revolutionary  leaders,  and  while  she 
was  giving  her  remembrance  of  those  great  souls,  Wash- 
ington's name  was  not  mentioned.  She  was  asked-  the 
reason,  and  if  she  ever  saw  him.  She  said :  " Yes,  indeed. 
I  was  speaking,  however,  of  the  men  of  the  Revolution; 
he  was  an  angel." 

And  now,  before  I  conclude,  let  us  look  at  the  lessons 
of  Washington's  life.  First,  he  was  the  champion  of  civil 
and  religious  liberty  for  all  men.  Despots  hate  it.  It  has 
been  denied  by  kings  and  queens,  and  they  were  ruffians. 
It  has  been  sneered  at  by  eminent  officials,  and  they  were 
bought  by  gold.  It  has  been  denounced  by  State-paid 
preachers,  and  they  were  deceivers.  The  Russian,  the 
Polander,  the  Irishman  burns  to  realize  the  dream  of  lib- 
erty, which  was  the  inspiration  of  great  Washington's  life. 

The  second  great  lesson  was  that  no  people  can  ever 
obtain  their  rights  without  fighting  for  them.  O'Connell 
once  said  that  no  liberty  was  worth  the  shedding  of  a  drop 
of  blood;  and  his  eloquent  American  compeer,  Wendell 
Phillips,  whom  we  have  recently  buried  in  tears  and  glory, 
says  in  his  famous  lecture  upon  O'Connell,  that  "muskets 
are  the  weapons  of  animals,  but  agitation  is  the  atmos- 
phere of  brains."  These  eminent  philanthropists  ought 
to  have  known  that  tyrants  never  let  go  their  remorseless 
grasp  upon  the  throat  of  their  oppressed  serfs  without  the 
application  of  gunpowder.  Holland  won  her  liberty  by 
the  revolution  in  which  she  threw  off  the  yoke  of  Spain. 
Greece  gained  freedom  and  prosperity  by  a  war  in  which 
she  shook  off  the  Turkish  and  Mohammedan  authorities. 
France  achieved  her  liberty  by  several  revolutions,  dur- 
ing which  she  sent  her  pretenders  to  royal  blood  to  the 
scaffold,  where  every  ruffian  of  them  ought  to  be  sent. 

There  are  those  who  are  disposed  to  condemn  Wash- 


APPENDIX.  493. 

ington  for  his  resort  to  the  sword ;  but  there  was  no  other 
way  to  independence.  This  truth  is  finely  expressed  in 
the  words  of  an  English  poetess,  the  noblest  poem  upon 
this  subject  in  the  English  language: 

"  There  's  a  star  in  the  West  that  shall  never  go  down 

Till  the  records  of  valor  decay  ; 
We  must  worship  its  light,  though  it  be  not  our  own, 

For  liberty  bursts  in  its  ray. 
Shall  the  name  of  a  Washington  ever  be  heard 

By  a  freeman,  and  thrill  not  his  breast  ? 
Is  there  one  out  of  bondage  that  hails  not  the  word 

As  the  Bethlehem  Star  of  the  West? 

• 
He  struck  with  firm  courage  the  sword  of  the  brave, 

But  sighed  at  the  carnage  that  spread; 
He  indignantly  trampled  the  yoke  of  the  slave, 

But  wept  for  the  thousands  that  bled. 
Tho'  he  threw  back  the  fetters  and  headed  the  strife, 

Till  man's  charter  was  fairly  restored, 
Yet  he  prayed  for  the  moment  when  freedom  and  life 

Would  no  longer  be  pressed  by  the  sword. 

O,  his  laurels  were  pure!  and  his  patriot  name 

On  the  page  of  the  future  shall  dwell, 
And  be  seen  in  all  annals,  the  foremost  in  fame, 

By  the  side  of  an  Emmet  and  Tell. 
Revile  not  my  song,  for  the  wise  and  the  good 

Among  Britons  have  nobly  confessed 
That  his  was  the  glory,  and  ours  was  the  blood 

Of  the  deeply-stained  fields  of  the  West." 

As  the  centuries  roll  on,  his  fame  will  brighten  with 
increasing  splendor,  shedding  light  upon  the  pathway 
of  the  heroes,  the  martyrs,  and  redeemers  of  mankind. 
As  the  old  legend  runs,  St.  Humbert  died  and  was  buried, 
and  a  green  branch  was  laid  upon  his  breast.  At  the  end 
of  a  century  the  grave  was  opened,  the  saint's  body  had 
dissolved  into  dust,  but  the  fair  branch,  unwithered,  re- 
tained its  perfect  greenness.  So  with  our  Washington, 
centuries  hence,  when  his  beloved  America  is  crowned 
like  Tabor  with  an  eternal  light,  his  name  shall  abide  im- 
perishably  green. 


494  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

REMINISCENCES  OF  GENERAL  SHERMAN. 

THE  first  time  I  met  General  Sherman  was  at  Pa- 
ducah,  Kentucky,  when  my  regiment  was  ordered  to  his 
command.  He  intimated  his  desire  to  have  the  officers 
visit  him.  He  was  in  his  happiest  mood,  and  inquired 
from  what  part  of  the  State  our  companies  were  recruited 
and  the  name  of  the  colonel.  He  spoke  proudly  of  Ohio 
having  done  more  than  its  duty  in  filling  up  her  quota 
so  promptly. 

One  of  the  captains  thought  he  would  take  advantage 
of  the  general's  cordiality,  and  began  to  ask  questions. 
"Where  is  Buckner,  the  Confederate  commander,  and 
when  do  you  expect  to  attack  him?  We  are  spoiling  for 
a  fight." 

At  this  question  Sherman  lost  his  Christian  serenity 
of  temper,  and  abruptly  answered:  "A  very  improper 
question  for  you  to  ask,  sir.  You  will  have  enough  of 
fighting.  The  war  is  not  yet  commenced." 

This  pleasant  and  interesting  incident,  which  took 
place  after  the  battle  of  Chattanooga,  shows  General  Sher- 
man's knowledge  of  his  men,  his  profound  and  touching 
allusions  to  the  memory  of  those  who  had  fallen  in  battle. 
It  was  at  Resaca.  The  general  visited  the  Irish  legion; 
the  soldiers  uncovered  their  heads  as  they  rushed  in  hun- 
dreds to  catch  a  glimpse  of  their  heroic  commander,  and 
hear  what  he  had  to  say.  General  Sherman  introduced 
McPherson,  his  successor  in  command  of  the  Army  of 
the  Tennessee,  and  also  General  Barry ;  then  inquired  after 
the  different  officers  of  the  legion. 

General  Sherman — "So  the  poor  colonel  was  killed?" 

Major  Flynn — "Yes,  general;  and  our  lieutenant- 
colonel  has  not  yet  been  able  to  join  us." 

General  Sherman — "Why,  was  he  wounded?" 

Major  Flynn — "Yes,  very  seriously." 

General  Sherman — "How  is  your  chaplain?  Is  he  still 
with  you?" 

Major  Flynn — "No,  general ;  poor  Father  Kelly  died 
in  Chicago." 


APPENDIX.  495 

General  Sherman — "Have  you  many  sick  in  the  regi- 
ment?" 

Major  Flynn — "Not  one." 

General  Sherman — "That  is  very  good;  still  the  situ- 
ation here  does  not  appear  healthful,  although  your  camp 
is  very  neat  and  clean.  However,  you  will  soon  be  leav- 
ing here  now.  In  what  State  is  your  transportation?" 

Such  questions  as  these  show  Sherman's  knowledge 
of  and  interest  in  his  men. 

In  continuing  the  conversation,  he  said:  "The  road 
from  Nashville  to  Decatur  is  now  open.  I  have  just  been 
over  it,  and  soon  we  will  be  ready  to  have  another  brush. 
As  quickly  as  I  can  establish  some  more  depots  and  get 
down  enough  supplies,  we*will  be  at  it  again.  By  the  way, 
I  had  good  news  from  Paducah  this  morning.  The  'old 
war  horse,'  Colonel  Hicks,  defeated  Forrest,  who  has 
about  seven  thousand  cavalry  up  there  with  him ;  but  Gen- 
eral Grierson  is  in  his  rear,  and  will  be  sure  to  bag  him." 

At  this  point  the  band  struck  up  "Hail  to  the  Chief." 
The  major  made  a  neat  little  speech,  congratulating  the 
general  on  his  promotion,  and  added :  "I  have  just  been 
reading  in  the  Pilot  that  you  are.  all  Irish." 

"Yes,  Irish  blood  courses  in  my  veins,"  remarked  Gen- 
eral McPherson. 

"And  for  me,"  said  General  Barry,  "my  parents  came 
from  Cork." 

"Well,"  said  General  Sherman,  "I  have  never  denied 
being  an  Irishman ;  and,  besides,  my  wife  is  Irish.  But  we 
want  to  see  the  paper." 

I  never  saw  such  a  sudden  change  come  over  the  face 
of  any  man  as  came  over  that  of  General  Sherman 
after  the  battle  of  Kenesaw  Mountain.  In  that  terrible 
engagement  several  of  the  most  brilliant  officers  had 
fallen,  among  them  Harker,who  commanded  the  Sherman 
Brigade,  that  had  been  raised  by  a  brother  of  the  general, 
Senator  Sherman.  General  Sherman  was  terribly 
wrought  up  over  this  disaster.  A  Confederate  prisoner 
was  brought  into  headquarters,  a  soldier  of  some  Savan- 
nah regiment.  He  was  poorly  clad,  and  looked  wretched 


496       I        UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

when  he  was  brought  before  Sherman;  and  as  he  beheld 
the  stern  countenance  of  the  general  he  trembled  with 
fear.  "Where  are  you  from,  sir?"  asked  Sherman.  "Ire- 
land, be  jabers!  Gineral;  and  I  wish  I  wor  there  to-day  ,1 
sor,"  was  the  quick  reply.  Sherman  laughed  at  the  quick 
wit  of  the  fellow,  and  had  him  clothed  and  fed,  and  for 
several  days  took  a  lively  interest  in  him. 

General  Sherman  possessed  the  true  elements  of  great- 
ness. He  was  ever  true  to  his  conceptions  of  duty.  What 
a  contrast  to  Nelson,  who,  on  the  eve  of  the  battle  of 
Trafalgar,  is  reported  to  have  said,  "To-morrow  will  give 
me  a  peerage  or  a  monument  in  Westminster  Abbey." 
General  Sherman  would  have  said,  "To-morrow  will  find 
me  doing  my  duty  to  my  country,  or  laying  down  my 
body  on  the  battle-field  where  I  have  fought."  There 
was  about  him  another  trait  of  character  not  often  men- 
tioned, his  kindness  and  tenderness  of  heart.  I  have  seen 
him  frequently  dismount  from  his  horse,  and  share  with 
a  tired  soldier  the  contents  of  his  haversack.  I  saw  him 
at  Fort  McAllister,  when  the  sun  was  going  down  behind 
a  magnificent  grove  of  oaks,  chastened  by  touches  of 
solemn  sadness,  his  cheek  wet  with  tears  as  he  beheld 
Hazen's  brave  division  repulsed,  and  many  a  gallant  soul 
hurled  into  eternity  by  the  bursting  of  the  hundreds  of 
torpedoes  which  were  buried  in  the  earth.  I  have  seen 
him  in  his  tent  listening  patiently  to  the  complaints  of  the 
private  soldier,  and  never  failing  to  have  justice  done. 

The  only  time  I  ever  saw  him  in  one  of  his  superb 
rages  was  in  the  city  of  Savannah,  at  the  princely  mansion 
of  Charles  Green.  A  British  subject  called  and  demanded 
protection  on  the  ground  of  the  neutrality  of  his  Govern- 
ment. Sherman's  face  became  white  with  wrath,  as  he 
exclaimed :  "Do  n't  talk  to  me,  sir,  of  your  Government's 
neutrality !  My  soldiers  have  seen  your  Queen's  mark 
upon  every  cannon  and  upon  every  gun  of  the  rebels ;  and 
they  can  never  forget  it — no,  never!" 

After  the  war  I  was  a  chaplain  in  the  regular  army. 
My  regiment  was  stationed  in  the  Carolinas,  where  I  had 
much  to  do  with  the  establishment  of  freedmen's  schools, 


APPENDIX.  497 

and  with  the  measures  of  Reconstruction.  The  colonel 
of  the  regiment  was  a  relative  of  Sherman  by  marriage, 
an  accomplished  and  gifted  man,  who  had  won  distin- 
guished honors  in  the  War  for  the  Union.  When  I  called 
upon  General  Sherman  in  Washington — he  was  then  act- 
ing Secretary  of  WTar — I  found  him  in  a  communicative 
mood,  cordial,  sociable,  pleasant.  His  first  question  was, 
"How  is  -  — ?"  referring  to  the  colonel.  I  told  him  that 
many  admirers  were  anxious  for  the  colonel  to  enter  poli- 
tics; that  "he  could  have  a  United  States  Senatorship." 
Sherman  said:  "That  is  impossible.  Politics  would  ruin 
him.  Besides,  it  would  disgrace  and  blot  out  his  fine 
record  as  a  soldier.  He  must  know,  as  every  one  knows, 
'carpet-baggism  in  Southern  politics  is  the  very  genius 
of  humbuggery.' ' 

I  mentioned  to  him  that  when  at  Savannah  General 
Howard  gave  me  a  letter  to  a  Methodist  pastor,  asking 
the  use  of  his  church  for  me  to  preach  in  to  the  Union 
soldiers.  "Yes,"  said  Sherman,  "Howard  is  a  Christian; 
he  possesses  a  combination  of  personal  courage  and  purity 
of  character  and  Christian  manhood  seldom  witnessed  in 
war.  In  the  darkest  and  most  trying  hours  I  always  found 
him  hopeful,  cheerful,  and  ready." 

Contrary  to  my  expectations,  he  spoke  in  the  highest 
terms  of  Logan,  remarking  that  General  Logan's  oratory 
was  not  his  only  attractive  quality.  "I  always  liked  him 
for  his  patriotism,  for  his  eloquence.  That  one  sentence 
of  his  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  war,  'The  men  of  the 
Northwest  will  hew  their  way  to  the  Gulf  with  their 
swords,'  added  thousands  of  soldiers  to  the  ranks.  He 
was  not  formed  of  the  stuff  of  which  parasites  are  made." 

But  it  was  for  Lincoln  that  he  had  words  of  warmest 
praise.  Lincoln  was  "the  purest,  the  most  generous,  the 
most  magnanimous  of  men.  He  will  hold  a  place  in  the 
world's  history  loftier  than  that  of  any  king  or  conqueror. 
It  is  no  wonder  that  the  Parliaments  of  Europe,  that  the 
people  throughout  the  civilized  world,  should  everywhere 
speak  of  him  with  reverence ;  for  his  work  was  one  of  the 
greatest  labors  a  human  intellect  ever  sustained." 
32 


49 8  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

I  asked  him  his  opinion  of  Lincoln's  eloquence.  His 
answer  was :  "I  have  seen  and  heard  many  of  the  famous 
orators  of  our  country,  but  Lincoln's  unstudied  speeches 
surpassed  all  that  I  ever  heard.  I  have  never  seen  them 
equaled,  or  even  imitated.  It  was  not  scholarship ;  it  was 
not  rhetoric;  it  was  not  elocution;  it  was  the  unaffected 
and  spontaneous  eloquence  of  the  heart.  There  was  noth- 
ing of  the  mountain  torrent  in  his  manner;  it  was  rather 
the  calm  flow  of  the  river." 

During  this  conversation  Sherman  was  full  of  en- 
thusiastic admiration  for  the  old  soldiers.  He  was  proud 
to  be  the  commander  of  such  men.  He  told  with  what 
a  thrill  of  admiration  the  friends  at  home  would  speak  in 
the  years  to  come  of  their  sieges,  their  battles,  and  their 
victories,  and  quoted  Sir  John  Moore's  dying  words  after 
Corunna,  "I  hope  they  will  do  me  justice  at  home." 

I  told  him  that  his  soldiers  were  equally  attached  to 
their  old  general,  and  I  gave  him  the  following  incident 
as  one  proof :  At  Raleigh,  North  Carolina,  when  his  treaty 
with  Johnston  had  been  rejected,  some  of  the  professed 
religious  journals  of  the  North  had  written  extremely 
bitter  and  untruthful  articles  as  to  Sherman's  motives  in 
accepting  the  surrender  of  Johnston,  going  so  far  as  to 
say  that  the  terms  were  inspired  by  Roman  Catholic  influ- 
ences. These  religious  Cassandras  scattered  these  papers 
all  over  the  country ;  all  the  venerable  old  women  believed 
that  the  country  was  ruined.  Bundles  of  these  news- 
papers were  sent  to  the  army;  the  soldiers  at  Raleigh 
were  so  enraged  that  they  collected  the  obnoxious  sheets 
in  a  pile,  and  set  fire  to  them  to  the  song  of 

"John  Brown's  body  lies  a-moldering  in  the  grave, 
But  his  soul  goes  marching  on." 

This  was  the  only  opportunity  I  ever  enjoyed  of  a 
long  conversation  with  General  Sherman,  and  my  remem- 
brance of  him  is  as  vivid  and  as  fresh  at  this  hour  as  when 
it  took  place.  He  was  a  soldier  cast  in  the  mold  of  Ro- 
man firmness,  the  very  ideal  of  such  a  warrior  as  might 
have  commanded  the  Tenth  Legion.  He  combined  with 


APPENDIX.  499 

qualities  renowned  in  war  others  not  less  heroic;  for  no 
heart  was  more  distinguished  for  kindly  and  generous 
affections.  Under  that  singular,  wiry  exterior,  nature  had 
implanted  a  spirit  of  fire  and  an  irresistible  energy  which 
reminds  one  of  the  Italian  exploits  of  Lannes  or  the  vic- 
torious intrepidity  of  Nelson. 

"  Free  as  he  was  in  act  and  mind, 
He  leaves  no  braver  heart  behind." 


A  CULTIVATED  MAN. 

HE  is  DESCRIBED  TO  THE  METHODIST  MINISTERS— AN  INTEREST- 
ING SUBJECT  DISCUSSED  BY  REV.  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER,  AT 
THE  METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH  IN  CLEVELAND. 

AT  the  Methodist  Preachers'  Meeting  Monday  •morn- 
ing there  was  a  large  attendance.  The  order  of  the  day 
was  the  discussion  of  "The  Cost  of  a  Cultivated  Man,"  by 
Rev.  George  W.  Pepper.  The  subject  was  delightfully 
handled  by  Mr.  Pepper  in  his  unique  and  inimitable  way. 

In  his  address  to  the  ministers,  Rev.  Mr.  Pepper  said : 
"There  is  in  the  palace  of  the  Louvre  a  splendid  picture, 
of  which  the  Siege  of  Troy,  the  living  landscape  of 
Homer's  song,  is  the  scene.  Paris  is  beheld  in  silken 
dalliance  with  Helen,  while  his  brother  Hector  is  thor- 
oughly prepared  for  the  war.  Contrast  the  disciplined, 
the  fully-exercised,  the  well-equipped  Hector  with  the 
softness,  the  self-indulgence,  and  the  utter  effeminacy  of 
Paris,  and  you  have  the  difference  between  the  cultivated 
and  the  uncultivated  man.  He  must  pay  a  fearful  price 
if  he  would  attain  to  eminence.  The  loss  of  health,  the 
self-denial  of  needful  rest  and  comfort,  isolation  from  so- 
ciety, and  the  almost  hopeless  distance  of  success, — these 
and  a  thousand  obstacles  interfere ;  but  he  may  surmount 
them  all  if  he  be  as  one  of  the  Titan-souled  storied  giants 
who,  of  old,  heaped  rocks  upon  rocks,  and  climbed  upon 
this  strange  ladder  above  the  clouds. 

"The  cost  of  a  cultivated  man :  in  the  estimation  of 


500  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

his  value  we  must  refer  to  what  the  Supreme  Being  has 
supplied,  the  love  with  all  its  splendid  capabilities.  Every- 
thing had  been  created  but  man;  the  earth  glowed  in 
beauty  and  the  heavens  rolled  over  it  in  grandeur.  The 
Almighty  said,  'Let  us  make  man.'  Then  there  are  the 
educational,  philanthropic,  and  a  thousand  other  appli- 
ances which  must  be  considered.  In  the  cost  of  a  well- 
furnished  man  there  must  be  the  outlay  of  thought,  the 
concentration  of  all  his  powers,  patience.  Nothing  dur- 
able was  ever  improvised.  What  produced  that  wondrous 
host  of  Italian  artists,  which  rise  upon  the  sight  like  a 
golden  cloud  of  beautiful  spirits?  What  made  Venice, 
Rome,  England  great?  It  was  sublime  patience,  then  the 
exercise  of  will.  A  man  may  be  a  good  memorizer  and  be 
a  fool,  a  great  scholar  and  be  a  theorist;  but  will  is  the 
efficient  factor  in  the  production  of  a  cultivated  man." 

The  speaker  described  the  cost  of  books,  of  travel,  of 
observation,  of  the  mind  being  well  stored  with  facts. 
He  said  that  matter  was  more  important  than  manner; 
that  in  education,  geography,-  history,  and  biography 
should  come  before  grammar,  logic,  rhetoric,  philosophy, 
abstractions,  discussions,  entities,  and  quiddities.  These 
served  but  to  disgust  the  pupil.  The  most  serious  evil  of 
modern  education  was  based  upon  a  fashion.  Debating 
societies  were  the  nurseries  of  orators,  the  rehearsals  of 
illustrious  men.  The  most  cultivated  man  he  ever  met 
was  Gladstone;  the  most  cultivated  woman  was  Ada  Re- 
han.  She  possessed  a  soul  which  was  full  pf  enthusiasm 
in  all  that  is  beautiful  and  noble.  As  an  illustration  of  the 
triumphs  of  a  cultured  man  and  orator,  the  speaker  quoted 
from  Gladstone's  address  to  the  London  preachers,  in 
which  he  placed  Richard  Lalor  Sheil — the  last  of  the 
rhetoricians — as  the  greatest  orator  of  the  English  Par- 
liament. If  Shell's  genius  had  the  eagle's  flight,  it  had 
the  eagle's  courage,  too ;  if  it  could  soar  to  the  loftiest 
crag,  it  could  wheel  in  the  sunlight  and  pounce  upon  the 
stealthiest  prey.  He  married  a  great  beauty  without  for- 
tune. The  son  of  a  wealthy  father,  he  would  not  hang 
upon  him  for  support.  He  would  bake  his  own  bread. 


APPENDIX,  501 

He  had  the  honest  daring  to  take  the  hand  he  loved, 
though  the  white  finger  wore  no  jewels.  The  great  evil 
of  modern  culture  is  the  cramming  of  memory.  The 
scholar,  instead  of  finding  the  schoolroom  a  perpetual 
feast  of  nectared  sweets,  finds  rather  an  asinine  feast  of 
thistles.  Memories  crammed,  fatigue  and  weaken  the 
mind.  As  Humboldt  says,  "The  finest  fruit  earth  holds  up 
to  its  Maker  is  a  cultivated  man." 


LECTURE   ON   IRELAND,    DELIVERED    IN   ASH- 
LAND, APRIL  25,  1888. 

(From  the  Ashland  Gazette.) 

SUCCESSFUL  in  every  detail  and  particular,  was  the 
verdict  rendered  by  the  vast  throng  of  people  which 
passed  under  the  shadows  and  the  many  brilliant  and 
parti-colored  lights  of  the  new  Methodist  Episcopal 
church  on  last  Friday  night,  after  the  conclusion  of  the 
lecture  on  "Ireland  as  It  Is,"  by  Rev.  G.  W.  Pepper. 
Never  before  in  the  history  of  our  city  was  there  such  an 
overwhelming  ^outpouring  of  the  people  to  listen  to  a 
lecture,  and  never,  perhaps,  were  our  people  better  repaid 
than  on  last  Friday  evening,  by  the  admirable  and  elo- 
quent orator  and  minister,  Mr.  Pepper.  It  was  an  event 
of  more  than  ordinary  importance.  The  large  window 
which  adorns  the  front  of  the  beautiful  edifice  is  sym- 
bolical of  the  subject  chosen  by  the  pastor  for  his  lecture. 
Parnell,  Emmet,  Gladstone.  Three  names  interwoven 
with  the  struggles  of  Ireland  for  independence,  right,  and 
justice,  and  representing  truth,  patriotism,  and  manhood. 
These  names  will  live  in  the  memory  of  all  Ashland  Meth- 
odists as  long  as  the  magnificent  new  structure  stands 
as  a  place  of  Divine  worship.  Long  before  the  hour  at 
which  the  lecture  was  to  commence,  the  seats  of  the  audi- 
torium were  filled  by  Ashland's  best  people;  it  was  an 
audience  typical  of  Ashland's  society.  The  mellow  lights 
from  the  chandeliers  reflected  on  the  beauty  of  the  fres- 


502  UNDER    THREE   FLAGS. 

coed  walls  and  ceilings,  the  vast  audience,  the  spacious 
church,  and,  above  all,  the  three  names — Parnell,  Emmet, 
and  Gladstone — which  met  the  observation  of  all  in  their 
lofty  altitude,  lent  to  the  scene  and  the  occasion  an  im- 
pressiveness  and  interest  rarely  experienced  by  our  peo- 
ple. On  the  rostrum,  supported  by  an  easel,  hung  the 
Harp  of  Ireland,  adorned  with  greens  and  flowers.  Back 
of  it  was  a  large  bower  of  hothouse  plants,  all  giving 
forth  an  aromatic  odor,  which  contrasted  strangely  with 
the  chill  April  weather  without.  The  chairman  of  the 
evening  was  Dr.  J.  P.  Cowan,  who  announced  as  the  first 
thing  on  the  program,  a  song  by  the  choir.  The  choir 
was  composed  of  the  Misses  Ella  Greenamyer,  Mary  Mc- 
Kean,  Mary  Curtis,  and  Messrs.  Theodore  McNeely,  Har- 
mon Grindle,  and  Ed  Miller,  who  sang  one  of  the  Church 
hymns  with  more  than  ordinary  effect.  Miss  Mattie 
Sprengle,  as  organist,  and  Mr.  Frank  Greenamyer,  as  cor- 
netist,  added  materially  and  effectually  to  the  splendid 
manner  in  which  the  choir  acquitted  themselves.  Mr. 
Ed  Miller  then  sang  his  solo,  "The  Wearing  of  the 
Green."  To  an  Irishman's  heart  this  national  ode  awak- 
ened all  the  memories  of  his  Fatherland.  Mr.  Miller,  with 
his  known  musical  talent,  fairly  excelled  himself.  He  sang 
as  if  impressed  with  the  words  which  he  uttered ;  his  tones 
were  clear,  harmonious,  and  musical,  and  perhaps  there 
was  not  one  in  that  large  audience  that  did  not  breathe 
with  quickened  breath,  as  he  closed  the  splendid  rendition 
of  "Wearing  of  the  Green."  Mr.  Pepper  then  came  for- 
ward, and  was  greeted  by  great  applause  as  he  stepped 
for  the  first  time  on  the  rostrum  of  the  new  Methodist 
Episcopal  church,  the  construction  of  which  is  owing,  in 
a  great  measure,  to  his  untiring  energy. 

It  is  needless  to  dwell  upon  his  lecture,  as  it  is  given 
in  full  below.  Suffice  it  to  say,  by  way  of  comment,  that 
his  old-time  vigor,  enunciation,  and  the  lofty  flights  of 
rhetoric  for  which  he  is  noted,  were  displayed  in  their 
strongest  light  and  to  the  best  advantage.  For  two 
hours  Mr.  Pepper  held  his  large  audience;  for  two  hours 
he  alternately  produced  laughter  and  sighs ;  and  when  his 


APPENDIX.  503 

grand  peroration  was  finished,  we  dare  say  that  there  were 
none  in  the  audience  assembled,  that  did  not  pity  the  con- 
dition of  the  Irish  people,  revere  them  for  their  love  of 
home  and  native  land,  and  with  the  firm  determination 
to  emulate  their  virtues  and  their  patriotism  in  the  future. 

Mr.  Dill  Lamborn  sang  that  grand  old  Irish  ode, 
"The  Harp,"  as  a  finale  to  the  night's  proceedings.  All 
our  citizens  are  familiar  with  Air.  Lamborn's  style  and 
eloquence,  but  upon  this  particular  occasion  he  outdid 
himself.  His  broad,  fluctuating,  and  tremulous  voice 
lifted  that  grand  old  song  from  a  few  lines  of  words  into 
a  living  and  moving  being.  He  surpassed  himself,  which 
can  only  be  the  verdict  rendered  by  all. 

The  success  of  the  Lecture  and  the  credit  of  it  is 
largely  due  to  the  Methodist  ladies  of  the  Social  Union, 
the  officers  of  which  are :  Miss  Grace  Hughes,  President, 
and  Mrs.  A.  Jamison,  Secretary.  Miss  Arbi  Brown  and 
Mrs.  Will  Carter,  both  members  of  the  Social  Union,  ma- 
terially aided  the  success  of  the  project,  by  their  untiring 
energy  and  application. 

We  can  not  close  without  mentioning  one  very  essen- 
tial and  important  feature  of  the  night's  entertainment — 
the  charming  lady  ushers.  But  for  them  the  immense 
gathering  would  have  jolted  and  jarred  each  other  to 
such  an  extent  that  all  relish  for  the  lecture  would  have 
been  lost.  They  were  the  Misses  Jennie  Waggoner,  Net- 
tie Krebs,  Edna  Brinton,  Blanche  Kunkle,  May  Mc- 
Clain,  and  Annie  Mason.  After  the  audience  was  dis- 
missed, Sheriff  Flannery,  of  Mansfield,  put  seven  dollars 
in  Mr.  Pepper's  hand,  to  aid  Ireland's  cause. 


LADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN, — It  is  the  beautiful  ordina- 
tion of  the  Divine  Creator  that  nations  should  each  have 
their  characteristics.  The  Hebrew  was  mighty  by  the 
power  of  faith;  the  Greek  by  knowledge  and  art;  the 
Roman  by  arms ;  but  the  glory  of  the  American  is  in  his- 
love  of  liberty.  The  pride  of  the  Hebrew  was  in  his  re- 
ligion; the  pride  of  the  Greek  was  in  wisdom;  the  pride 


504  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

of  the  Roman  was  in  power.  For  the  American,  belief  is 
not  enough ;  ideas  of  liberty  are  not  enough :  nor  is  mere 
work.  The  age  is  an  age  of  freedom.  Though  the  Amer- 
ican covers  the  land  with  factories  and  puts  a  mill  on  every 
stream;  though  he  sifts  the  gold  and  silver  of  the  hills, 
these  golden  grains  contain  the  seeds  of  empires.  He 
covers  the  ocean  with  ships,  but  every  sail  that  shivers 
in  the  breeze  has  the  promise  of  freedom  in  the  sound. 

The  lecturer  dwelt  at  length  upon  the  three  Irelands 
which  he  saw  there  five  years  ago, — the  southern  Irish, 
with  red  blood  in  their  veins,  who  are  unconquerably  op- 
posed to  landlordism;  the  lords  in  Ireland,  nine  hundred 
men,  owning  15,000,000  acres,  and  taking  from  the  land 
annually  $80,000,000. 

The  Scotch-Irish  were  eulogized  for  their  republican- 
ism, thirty  of  their  best  ministers  dying  upon  the  scaffold 
for  Ireland.  Parnell  was  eulogized  by  the  greatest  living 
statesman — that  he  was  raised  up  by  heaven  to  dig  up 
the  foundations  of  British  despotism.  The  objections  to 
Ireland  possessing  a  Parliament  were  reviewed  and  re- 
futed. Here  the  speaker  took  occasion  to  denounce  the 
slanders  of  Ireland's  enemies;  that  if  the  Irish  Catholics 
could,  they  would  exterminate  the  Protestants.  The  lec- 
turer declared  that  "Ireland  did  not  want  London  rule 
nor  Rome  rule,  but  home  rule."  This  sentiment  was 
loudly  and  enthusisastically  cheered. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Pepper  rapidly  sketched  the  traits  of 
various  nationalities.  The  German  was  thoughtful;  the 
Scotchman  intensely  national,  carrying  with  him  over 
land  and  sea  fond  memories  of  the  banks  and  the  braes 
which  the  genius  of  Burns  has  made  immortal ;  a  land  hal- 
lowed by  the  deeds  of  Bruce,  whose  helmet  bears  the 
scars  of  freedom's  battles,  and  whose  brow  is  blazing  with 
the  glory  of  one  thousand  years.  The  Englishman  was 
characterized  by  devotion  to  duty;  it  was  this  love  of 
duty  that  invested  English  womanhood  the  world  over 
with  grace  and  beauty.  The  speaker  paid  a  high  compli- 
ment to  the  democracy  of  England,  and  predicted  the 
time  was  coming  when  young  England  would  rise  re- 


APPENDIX.  505 

splendent  and  glorious.  He  then  spoke  of  the  traits  of 
the  Irish  people  as  he  saw  them  when  he  revisited  Ire- 
land. They  were  earnest,  eloquent,  patriotic,  and  brave, 
.and  a  gallant  race.  After  seven  hundred  years,  Britain 
is  compelled  to  keep  forty  thousand  sodiers  there  to  pre- 
vent the  people  from  rising  in  rebellion. 

History  has  written  it  as  our  proudest  eulogy.  Geo- 
graphically considered,  it  is  but  a  small  island,  with  an 
area  of  thirty-two  thousand  miles,  and  yet  to  most  of  her 
sons,  scattered  over  the  earth's  wide  surface,  there  is  an 
indescribable  charm  and  fascination  in  the  very  name. 
There  are  so  many  delightful  associations  over  which  one 
lingers  in  enthusiastic  love,  and  which  suggests  to  the 
mind  illustrious  memories  of  a  time  when  it  produced 
warriors,  poets,  saints,  and  orators.  The  climate  is  so 
charming,  the  scenery  is  so  full  of  noble  beauties,  the  soil 
is  so  fruitful,  the  men  so  brave,  and  the  women  so  fair, 
and  the  whole  people  so  brimful  of  wit  and  of  a  generous 
hospitality,  that  even  the  iron-hearted  Cromwell  ex- 
claimed, while  viewing  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Nore 
from  the  cupola  of  St.  Canice,  "Behold,  here  indeed  is  a 
land  worth  fighting  for." 

Geographers  tell  us  that  the  world  may  be  divided 
into  hemispheres,  one  of  water  and  the  other  of  land. 
Ireland  is  the  center  of  the  land  hemisphere.  A  most 
admired  poet  says  "that  her  back  is  turned  to  Britain  and 
her  face  to  the  west,"  indicating  that  Ireland  is  favorably 
situated  to  become  the  great  entrepot  of  commerce  be- 
tween Europe  and  America.  The  Irish  claim  that  the 
glory  of  discovering  this  continent  belongs  to  one  of 
their  saints,  St.  Brenden,  and  that  Ireland  was  the  first, 
as  she  is  now,  the  most  friendly  and  trusted  ally  of  the 
great  Republic.  That  no  other  country  visited  by  trav- 
elers approaches  Ireland  in  natural  attractions,  is  the  be- 
lief of  every  Irishman.  Where  else  do  we  behold  so  many 
great  and  characteristic  features?  Where  such  moun- 
tains as  the  magnificent  chain  of  the  Connemaras? 
Where  gardens  so  sylvan  and  lovely,  with  winding  walks, 
like  those  in  forests,  fountains,  and  springs?  Where  lakes 


506  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

like  those  of  Killarney,  where  savage  wildnes.s  ceases  to  be 
terrible,  because  it  is  inconceivably  lovely?  Where  ca- 
thedrals and  churches  of  such  grandeur  and  awe-inciting 
vastness?  Where  such  a  soil,  fruitful  enough  to  support 
fifteen  millions  of  people?  Where  else  can  we  feel  in  every 
air  which  blows  the  spirit  of  health,  the  freedom  from  the 
world,  the  communion  with  one's  self? 

Glorious  old  Ireland ;  the  temple  of  nature  where  man 
casts  off  for  a  time  all  thoughts  but  of  her,  and  drinks 
deep  of  the  purest  and  loftiest  source  of  enjoyment; 
mighty  and  grand  in  thy  unrivaled  beauties;  wonderfully 
beautiful  in  thy  enchanting  loveliness,  and  thy  mountains 
noble  and  magnificent  images  of  eternal  power  and 
grandeur. 

"The  Niobe  of  nations!  there  she  stands, 

Childless  and  crownless  in  her  voiceless  woe ; 
An  empty  urn  within  her  withered  hands, 
Whose  holy  dust  was  scattered  long  ago." 

Ireland  is  a  heroic  nation.  The  records  of  liberty 
are  full  of  the  praise  of  Irish  valor.  Satirical  Voltaire,  the 
cynic  of  the  human  race,  may  ridicule  their  gallantry,  say- 
ing they  fight  everybody's  battles  but  their  own.  Can 
Greece,  Rome,  Switzerland,  Holland,  or  even  America, 
present  more  glorious  fields,  or  more  gallant  struggles 
.for  freedom?  Their  sieges  are  so  many  eulogisms,  the 
most  heroic  are  those  of  Derry,  where  the  brave  Walker 
held  out  against  pestilence,  famine,  death,  until  God  him- 
self fought  for  him ;  and  that  of  Limerick,  where  the  im- 
mortal Sarsfield  splendidly  defied  the  bullets  of  the  enemy. 
"Show  me  the  man,"  said  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  "that 
tells  the  nations  that  I  am  beautiful,  that  I  may  shower 
honors  upon  him."  We  love  Davis  for  singing  of  Ire- 
land's charms: 

"O,  she  is  a  rich  and  rare  land!  O,  she  is  afresh  and  fair  land! 
She  is  a  true  and  dear  land,  this  native  land  of  mine." 

The  patriot  Irishman  loves  to  refer  to  the  glorious 
period  of  the  United  Irishmen — producing  a  host  of  bril- 


ATPENDIX.  507 

Kant  men,  among  them  poor  Emmet,  the  beau  ideal  of  a 
soldier,  a  patriot,  and  a  man.  Pity  smiles  through  her 
tears  on  the  strange  and  checkered  scenes  of  his  life  in 
connection,  not  only  with  the  scaffold,  which  he  made 
radiant  and  glorious  as  the  cross,  but  also  the  tender  and 
touching  separation  from  him  of  the  young  and  beautiful 
daughter  of  a  well-known  Irish  barrister. 

TRIBUTE  TO  EMMET. 

It  was  the  evening  of  a  lovely  day ;  a  young  and  beau- 
tiful girl  stood  at  the  prison  gate,  and  desired  admittance 
into  the  dungeon.  She  was  closely  veiled,  and  the  keeper 
could  not  imagine  who  she  \vas,  nor  that  any  one  of  such 
proud  bearing  should  be  a  humble  supplicant  at  the 
prison  door.  However,  he  granted  the  boon,  led  her  to 
the  dungeon,  opened  the  massive  door;  then  closed  it 
again,  and  the  lovers  were  alone.  He  was  leaning  against 
the  prison  wall,  with  downcast  head,  and  his  arms  were 
folded  upon  his  breast.  Gently  she  raised  the  veil  from 
her  face,  and  Emmet  turned  to  gaze  upon  all  that  earth 
contained  for  him ;  the  girl  whose  sunny  brow,  in  the  days 
of  his  boyhood,  had  been  his  polestar;  the  maiden  who 
made  him  think  the  world  was  all  sunshine.  The  clank- 
ing of  his  chains  sounded  like  a  death-knell  to  her  ears, 
and  she  wept  like  a  child.  Emmet  said  but  little,  yet  he 
pressed  her  to  his  heart.  In  a  low  voice  he  besought  her 
not  to  forget  him  when  he  was  gone.  He  spoke  of 
bygone  days,  the  happiness  of  childhood,  when  his  hopes 
were  bright  and  glorious. 

"Hark!  the  church-bell  sounded,  and  he  remembered 
the  hour  of  separation.  The  jailer  entered,  and,  after 
dashing  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  he  separated  them  from 
their  long  embrace,  and  led  the  lady  from  the  dungeon. 
At  the  entrance  she  turned;  their  eyes  met;  they  could 
not  say  farewell.  The  door  swung  upon  its  heavy  hinges, 
and  they  were  parted  forever.  The  next  day,  a  pale  girl, 
with  golden  hair,  lay  upon  the  bed  of  death.  O !  it  was 
hard  for  her  to  die  in  that  beautiful  Erin,  where  the  flowers 


508  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

bloom,  and  the  balmy  air  comes  freshly  to  the  pining  soul ! 
O  !  no,  her  star  was  set,  her  heart  was  broken ! 

"When  ties  have  been  formed  upon  earth,  what  is 
more  heartrending  and  agonizing  to  the  spirit  than  to 
find  the  beloved  is  snatched  away,  and  all  our  love  given 
to  a  passing  floweret?  Enough,  she  died,  the  betrothed 
of  Robert  Emmet." 

The  muse  of  Byron  has  immortalized  the  maid  of 
Saragossa;  why  should  the  amiable  Sarah  Curran,  the 
betrothed  of  Robert  Emmet,  be  denied  equal  honor? 

COMPLAINTS  OF  THE  IRISH. 

The  eloquent  Gladstone,  in  his  recent  speech,  ascribes 
Fenianism  and  all  the  troubles  of  Ireland  to  the  misgov- 
ernment  and  oppression  of  England.  Ireland  complains 
that  her  land  for  hundreds  of  years  has  been  deemed  legiti- 
mate plunder  for  the  rapacious  and  needy  servants  of  the 
British  crown.  She  complains  that  the  most  cruel  tor- 
tures and  the  most  savage  measures  have  been  used  to 
force  on  her  people  a  detested  Church,  where  its  members 
only  form  one-twentieth  part  of  the  population;  that 
Henry  II  put  the  people  to  death  because  they  did  not 
want  to  be  Catholics;  that  Henry  VIII  did  the  same  be- 
cause they  would  not  become  Protestants ;  that  Cromwell, 
the  saint,  "the  mildest-mannered  man  that  ever  scuttled 
ship  or  cut  a  throat,"  put  them  to  the  sword  because  they 
were  loyal  to  the  king.  * 

She  complains  that  Elizabeth  fomented  revolts,  mur- 
dering a  million  of  the  Irish,  in  order  that  there  might  be 
estates  enough  for  each  importunate  courtier. 

She  complains  that  William  of  Orange,  he  of  glorious 
memory,  turned  out  four  thousand  families  to  die  upon 
the  road,  and  then  established  a  penal  code  worthy  of 
Herod. 

She  complains  that  the  second  George  disfranchised 
five-sixths  of  her  population,  and  drove  a  hundred  thou- 
sand to  the  army  of  France. 

She  complains  that  her  clergy  were  hunted  and 
massacred. 


APPENDIX.  509 

She  complains  that  seven  millions  of  money,  sup- 
ported by  a  hundred  thousand  bayonets,  united  Ireland 
to  England. 

She  complains  that,  when  the  sword  failed  to  extermi- 
nate, England,  the  Christian  nation,  organized  peri- 
odical famines  in  the  years  1817,  1831,  1837,  1847,  re~ 
ducing  Ireland  from  a  population  of  eight  millions  to  half 
that  aggregate. 

She  complains  that  the  frightful  wars  of  1644,  the  re- 
volt of  1798,  and  the  insurrection  of  1858,  were  created  by 
England  for  the  extirpation  of  the  Celtic  race. 

She  complains  that  confiscation,  banishment,  and  the 
gibbet  have  been  used  by  the  Government  of  England  for 
the  speedy  and  complete  destruction  of  the  Irish  people. 

She  complains  that  for  five  hundred  years  the  flower 
of  every  generation  of  Irishmen  have  been  killed  on  the 
battle-fields,  or  murdered  on  the  scaffold,  or  driven  into 
desolate  exile  for  love  of  Ireland. 

She  complain  that  the  sacred  character  of  manhood, 
without  which  our  life  is  lower  than  the  dogs,  is  trampled 
under  the  feet  of  her  foreign  lords. 

Ireland,  in  the  face  of  Europe,  in  the  face  of  America, 
in  the  face  of  the  great  Creator,  is  amply  justified  in  enter- 
ing upon  a  war  with  England.  The  people  can  do  so 
with  a  free  conscience,  and  a  full  assurance  that  it  is 
heaven's  work. 

It  is  Ireland's  last  resource,  long  evaded,  long  post- 
poned. The  rights  which  she  sought  in  vain  to  purchase 
with  her  tears,  she  springs  up  at  last  to  purchase  with  her 
heart's  blood.  In  the  coming  onset  the  Irish  people  will 
have  the  sympathies  of  the  true  and  good.  The  earth  is 
weary  of  their  groans. 

They  fight  for  liberty  to  live.  Hundreds  of  thousands 
of  Irishmen  would  again  die  in  the  tortures  of  famine  if 
they  continue  to  bow  their  necks  to  the  Parliament  of 
England.  They  fight  for  the  liberty  to  retain  the  rights 
of  manhood;  that,  in  common  with  every  nation  in  Eu- 
rope, they  may  possess  arms  to  defend  themselves.  They 
fight  to  resist  outrages  more  grievous  and  dishonoring 


UNDER    THREE  FLAGS. 

than  those  for  which  an  English  king  was  brought  to  the 
block;  outrages  which,  in  this  hour,  would  cause  the 
swords  of  France  to  spring  from  their  scabbards  to  strike 
dead  the  audacious  author.  They  fight  because  they  are 
denied  peace,  except  at  the  price  of  dishonor;  because 
their  hero  leaders  are  doomed  to  the  prison  and  to  the 
gallows.  They  fight  because  the  honor,  the  interest,  the 
happiness,  the  necessity,  the  very  existence  of  that  ancient 
nation  depends  upon  the  valor  of  the  present  time.  If  the 
Irish  at  home  cower,  flinch,  or  falter,  then  the  hopes  are 
gone  for  which  their  fathers  gave  their  life's  blood — gone 
in  the  stench  of  dishonor  and  infamy,  that  will  cling  to  it 
forever.  In  God's  name,  let  the  struggle  begin.  O  that 
my  words  could  burn  like  molten  metal  through  your 
veins,  and  light  up  the  ancient  heroic  daring  which  would 
make  each  Irishman  a  Leonidas,  each  battle-field  a  Mara- 
thon, each  pass  a  Thermopylae ! 

American  history  is  full  of  the  Irishman's  achieve- 
ments. 

Charles  Carroll,  of  Carrollton,  and  Robert  Morris,  of 
Philadelphia,  were  Irishmen.  One-third  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary soldiers  who  defended  New  York,  New  Jersey, 
.arid  Massachusetts  from  the  British  hosts  were  Irishmen. 

Chivalrous  Montgomery  was  an  Irishman.  Thomas 
Addis  Emmet,  the  polished  diamond  of  the  New  York 
bar  and  attorney-general  of  the  State,  was  an  Irishman. 
The  Pennsylvania  legion  were  Irishmen.  Wellington,  the 
great  military  captain,  was  an  Irishman.  Curran  was  an 
Irishman.  The  humorous,  witty,  and  patriotic  Dean 
Swift  was  an  Irishman.  Edmund  Burke  was  an  Irishman. 
Daniel  O'Connell,  mighty  in  eloquence,  and  whose  com- 
manding majesty  of  soul  embraced  within  the  circle  of  his 
sympathies  all  religions  and  races,  was  an  Irishman.  John 
A.  Logan,  the  heroic  commander  of  the  Army  of  the 
Tennessee,  is  a  decidedly  Irish  name. 

The  Churches  of  the  United  States  are  under  eternal 
obligations  to  the  Irish  people.  The  innumerable  Roman 
Catholic  cathedrals  and  churches  are  evidences  of  their 
religious  devotion.  Philip  Embury,  the  first  preacher  of 


APPENDIX.  511 

Methodism  in  the  country,  was  an  Irishman.  Rev.  Fran- 
cis McKennie,  the  first  Presbyterian  minister,  was  an 
Irishman,  born  in  the  romantic  county  of  Donegal.  Alex- 
ander Campbell,  the  founder  of  the  Church  to  which  the 
lamented  Garfield  belonged,  was  an  Irishman,  born  and 
educated  in  the  county  of  Armagh.  Charles  Thompson, 
the  founder  of  the  Sons  of  Liberty,  and  the  first  secretary 
of  the  Continental  Congress,  was  from  the  county  of 
Derry.  Let  the  names  of  defamers  perish;  but  may  the 
memories  of  the  illustrious  Irishmen  who  stood  by  our 
magnificent  country  be  glorious  and  immortal ! 

Mr.  Pepper  made  an  earnest  appeal  for  American  sym- 
pathy. He  showed  that  in  every  war  for  the  Union  Irish- 
men were  in  the  vanguard.  In  1776  Franklin  wrote  a 
letter  to  Thomas  Gushing,  of  Boston,  saying,  "The  Irish 
are  our  friends."  Lord  Morentsjoy  exclaimed  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  "You  have  lost  America  by  the  Irish." 
Lord  Chatham  declared  in  his  great  speech,  "Three  mil- 
lions of  Irishmen  are  on  the  side  of  the  Colonies." 

In  1 86 1,  when  England  was  ready  to  go  to  war  with 
us  about  Mason  and  Slidell,  when  the  entire  press  of 
London  was  against  us,  Bishop  Haven  was  then  there. 
He  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Methodist  organ,  the  Watch- 
man, defending  our  Government.  The  editor  only  pub- 
lished a  portion.  He  went  to  Ireland  unattended,  when 
sixty  thousand  Irishmen  "Resolved,  If  England  goes  to 
war  with  the  United  States,  Ireland  stands  by  the  Stars 
and  Stripes  forever." 

Goldwin  Smith,  in  a  letter  to  the  London  Times,  has 
asserted  that  Americans  are  against  Ireland.  I  boldly 
affirm  that  our  great  men  in  Church  and  State,  of  the 
present  and  past,  no  matter  to  what  party  or  to  what 
Church  they  belong,  are  with  the  Irish  in  this  holy  cause. 

PRESIDENT  McKINLEY'S  WORDS. 

Is  not  William  McKinley,  just  elected  President,  an 
American?  Hear  him: 

"Get  for  Ireland  what  you  can  to-day;  to-morrow  get 
what  she  ought  to  have.  The  United  States  was  always 


512  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

on  the  side  of  liberty,  and  the  Irish  people  are  always  on 
the  side  of  the  United  States." 

Hear  the  eloquent  champion  of  the  Methodist  Church, 
Bishop  Simpson :  "I  thank  you  for  your  address  on  Ire- 
land. God  hasten  the  time  when  the  oppression  in  Ireland 
and  the  world  will  cease !" 

Listen  to  Bishop  Htirst,  of  the  University  of  Wash- 
ington :  "I  believe  there  is  no  danger  to  Protestantism  in 
the  adoption  of  Home  Rule  for  Ireland ;  on  the  contrary, 
I  believe  Home  Rule  essential  to  the  extension  and  propa- 
gation of  Protestantism  in  Ireland." 

Hear  Charles  Sumner,  the  pride  and  glory  of  the 
American  Senate,  a  few  years  ago,  in  a  letter  I  received 
from  him:  "Justi°e  to  Ireland  is  a  British  necessity.  In 
every  effort  for  Ireland  there  is  but  one  side  for  my  sym- 
pathies." 

EULOGY  UPON  GENERAL  MEAGHER. 

Here  the  speaker  reviewed  the  achievements  of  the 
great  champion  of  Ireland's  cause,  dwelling  at  length 
upon  that  illustrious  patriot,  Meagher. 

Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  in  appearance,  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  a  genuine  Celt.  He  was  of  medium  height, 
a  captivating  personnel,  a  florid  face,  brilliant  eyes,  glow- 
ing with  the  fires  of  patriotism.  His  countenance  was 
thoroughly  Milesian,  large,  open,  genial,  plump,  and 
ruddy.  His  voice  was  the  music  of  freedom.  Meet  him 
in  sociable  moments,  he  was  overflowing  with  wit  and 
humor  of  the  rarest  kind,  caustic  and  cutting  against  in- 
triguers, speculators,  and  political  charlatans;  but  genial 
and  flowing  towards  his  friends ;  full  of  buoyant  vivacity, 
wit,  and  historical  lore,  he  was  a  genial,  instructive,  and 
delightful  companion.  He  was  as  pleasant  a  friend  as 
Lover  ever  painted  in  any  of  his  novels;  his  strongest 
weakness  was  a  devoted  love  of  the  social  pleasures.  This 
was  the  head  and  front  of  his  offending.  In  the  light  of 
his  heroic  sacrifices,  we  may  well  forget  the  errors 
from  which  no  mortal  is  free,  and  rank  his  name  high  in 
the  list  of  those  who  have  deserved  well  of  their  country, 
and  made  their  mark  upon  their  day  and  generation. 


APPENDIX.  513 


THE  IRISH  NATIONAL  LEAGUE. 

Its  chief  object  is  the  resurrection  of  Irish  nationality. 
It  advocates  civil  liberty,  religious  toleration,  and  edu- 
cation, believing  that  a  people  to  be  free  must  be  edu- 
cated. Its  grand  principles  are  those  of  Swift  and  Jeffer- 
son: "That  all  Governments,  without  the  consent  of  the 
governed,  is  the  very  definition  of  slavery."  Its  immedi- 
ate mission  in  Ireland  is  the  establishment  of  a  Republic 
based  on  that  sublime  truth,  grand  as  the  heavens 
stretched  over  our  heads,  "That  all  men  are  created 
equal."  During  the  eight  years  of  its  existence  it  has 
excited  the  sympathies  of  mankind  everywhere  for  Ire- 
land; it  has  spread  its  ramification  all  over  the  British 
isle;  has  called  forth  the  admiring  applause  of  the  Ameri- 
can Congress;  has  shaken  the  wooden  walls  of  old  Eng- 
land, and  has  created  a  sentiment  in  Great  Britain  and 
throughout  the  world,  which  demands  that  justice  be  done 
to  Ireland.  There  is  a  grand  battle  impending  in  the  old 
land;  but  while  Irishmen's  sympathies  are  so  contracted 
and  their  hearts  so  full  of  prejudice,  they  will  never 
see  it. 

There  may  be  a  disposition  to  doubt  the  possibility 
of  accomplishing  the  freedom  of  Ireland.  It  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  promoting  of  a  sanguine  constitution,  and 
the  day-dream  of  an  ardent  and  vivacious  fancy.  That 
there  are  immense  difficulties  to  overcome,  that  to  the 
progress  of  liberty  there  is  opposition  such  as  no  other 
system  can  encounter,  is  instantly  and  candidly  acknowl- 
edged. There  are  religious  divisions  and  long-continued 
and  deeply-rooted  prejudices  to  be  crushed.  There  are 
thousands  of  foolish  Orangemen  who  dance  attendance 
upon  the  landlords,  who,  for  their  own  aggrandizement, 
countenance  the  disgusting  mummeries  of  Orangemen. 
There  are  hundreds  of  English  and  Scotch  peasants  who 
could  wear  the  British  crown.  There  is  the  aristocracy, 
and  an  army  of  spies,  detectives,  and  informers.  In  spite 
of  all  these  obstacles,  I  have  a  steady  faith  in  the  success 

33 


5H  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

of  our  cause,  and  I  affirm,  without  hesitancy,  that  the  time 
will  come  when,  grandly  as  of  yore,  Ireland,  released  from 
the  grasp  of  remorseless  Britain,  will  make  her  own  laws, 
and  be  governed  by  her  own  children. 

This  is  an  enterprise  worthy  of  our  most  earnest  and 
indefatigable  efforts.  Strive  to  feel  it,  my  countrymen, 
in  all  its  grandeur;  let  the  aspiration  breathe  in  every 
scene ;  be  it  in  the  buoyancy  of  health,  and  in  the  languor 
of  sickness,  and  in  the  closing  agony  of  death,  let  your  last 
prayer  be  for  the  deliverance  of  the  old  land. 

Ireland  will  yet  triumph.  She  will  rise  again  like  a 
young  queen,  proud  and  happy.  Prosperity  will  run  like 
fresh  blood  through  the  veins  of  her  people.  The  green 
banner  will  be  hailed  in  the  port  of  Boston.  Emmet's 
epitaph  will  be  written : 

"  O,  the  sight  entrancing, 
When  the  morning's  beam  is  glancing, 
On  files  arrayed  with  helm  and  blade, 
In  freedom's  cause  advancing." 

THE  IRELAND  OF  1848. 

The  young  Irish  Revolution  of  1848  gave  birth  to  a 
splendid  crop  of  poets,  orators,  and  patriots;  was  de- 
scribed by -Thomas  Francis  Meagher,  who  was  in  point  of 
eloquence  the  most  captivating  orator  of  the  period.  He 
was  sentenced,  like  Emmet,  to  be  hung,  but  made  his 
escape  to  the  United  States,  where  he  rose  to  be  the 
brilliant  commander  of  the  famous  Irish  Brigade  in  our 
late  war. 

Thomas  Moore  is  universally  regarded  as  the  national 
poet.  Handel  said  he  would  rather  have  composed 
"Aileen  Aroon"  than  any  of  his  great  operas.  Byron 
wrote  to  Moore,  saying,  "I  shall  not  suffer  my  daughter 
to  read  your  'Lalla  Rookh,'  lest  she  discovers  there  is  a 
greater  poet  than  her  father." 

Thomas  Davis  is  more  popular  with  the  Irish  than 
Moore.  He  wrote  the  war  songs  of  the  people.  How  the 


APPENDIX.  515 

Americans  were  thrilled  in  the  War  for  the  Union  by 
singing  his  poems,  such  as : 

"  What  rights  the  brave  ? 

The  sword. 
What  frees  the  slave  ? 

The  sword. 

What  strikes  the  crown  of  tyrants  down, 
And  answers  with  its  flash  their  frown  ? 
The  sword." 

And 

"  Whether  on  the  scaffold's  height  or  in  the  battle's  van, 
The  fittest  place  for  man  to  die  is  where  he  dies  for  man." 

What  can  be  sweeter  in  its  pathos  than  these  tender 
lines  of  Brennan's?  He^was  losing  his  sight  in  New  Or- 
leans, and  thus  addressed  his  wife  in  Ireland: 

"  Come  to  ine,  dearest!  I'm  lonely  without  thee, 
Day-time  and  night-time  I'm  thinking  about  thee  ; 
Night-time  and  day-time,  in  dreams  I  behold  thee, 
Unwelcome  my  waking  which  ceases  to  fold  thee. 

Come  to  me,  darling,  my  sorrows  to  lighten, 
Come  in  thy  beauty  to  bless  and  to  brighten ; 
Come  in  thy  womanhood,  meekly  and  lowly, 
Come  in  thy  loveliness,  queenly  and  holy, 
Come  to  me,  dear,  ere  I  die  of  my  sorrow; 
Rise  on  my  gloom,  like  the  sun  of  to-morrow. 

Strong,  swift,  and  fond  as  the  words  which  I  speak,  love, 
With  a  song  on  your  lips  and  a  smile  on  your  cheek,  love, 
Come!  for  my  heart  in  your  absence  is  weary  ; 
Haste,  for  my  heart  is  sickened  and  dreary  ; 
Come  to  the  arms  which  alone  shall  caress  thee, 
Come  to  the  heart  which  is  throbbing  to  press  thee." 

These  are  but  samples  in  recent  years  of  England's  vic- 
tims in  Ireland,  her  transplanted  felons,  her  banished 
scoundrels ;  but  like  the  conscript  fathers  of  the  American 
Revolution,  of  whom  Lord  Hillsborough  sneeringly  said, 
"They  deserve  no  terms,  those  Yankee  rebels,  but  ropes 
around  their  necks,"  I  say  these  Irish  patriots  and  exiles, 
like  your  own  sires,  are  God's  true  nobility. 


5'6  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

"The  man  dies,  but  his  memory  lives,"  exclaimed 
Emmet,  when,  in  the  chains  of  a  remorseless  tyranny,  he 
pronounced  that  grand  and  thrilling  vindication  of  his 
conduct  in  trying  to  secure,  as  he  says,  for  Ireland  what 
Washington  obtained  for  America.  Never  was  Demos- 
thenes more  eloquent;  never  was  Paul  more  intrepid; 
never  was  Sir  Henry  Vane,  the  pink  of  English  chivalry, 
more  courageous !  Little  did  the  lofty-minded  patriot 
think  that  in  a  Methodist  church,  nigh  a  hundred  years 
after  his  great  soul  had  gone  to  God,  his  beautiful  pre- 
diction should  be  realized.  "Let  no  man  write  my  epitaph 
until  my  country  takes  her  place  among  the  nations  of  the 
earth,"  is  among  his  last  golden  sentences;  but  as  the 
venerable  Mrs.  Welch,  with  ten  generations  of  Presby- 
terian Irish  blood  in  her  veins,  said  to  me  this  morning, 
"Emmet's  epitaph  is  written  in  the  hearts  of  the  Irish 
millions  throughout  the  world."  Her  father  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  United  Irishmen ;  took  their  oath,  like  every 
Irishman  of  note  at  that  time,  near  Derry,  and  escaped 
to  the  United  States.  He,  like  the  venerable  Dr.  Clokey, 
a  Presbyterian  clergyman  of  this  State,  was  engaged 
in  the  same  holy  cause,  and  to  this  day  "Remember 
Clokey"  is  attested  by  the  Irish.  Yes,  pure  and  chival- 
rous soul,  thy  memory  lives.  As  long  as  these  sacred 
walls  shall  resound  with  the  divine  truths  of  the  Father- 
hood of  God  and  brotherhood  of  man;  as  long  as  this 
pulpit  shall  be  filled  with  the  sons  of  Wesley;  as  long  as 
these  magnificent  windows  shall  be  adorned  with  a  splen- 
dor reflected  from  the  sun;  as  long  as  there  shall  be 
a  Methodist  here,  upon  whose  head  I  have  poured  the 
crystal  waters  of  baptism ;  as  long  as  the  lawns  surround- 
ing this  church  shall  wear  the  loveliest  of  green ;  as  long 
as  there  is  a  heart  to  feel  and  a  tongue  to  speak  of  patriot- 
ism and  chivalry,  the  eye  will  turn  to  yonder  "Home  Rule" 
window,  and  lips  will  pronounce  with  emotion  the  name 
of  Ireland's  martyred  son,  Emmet.  American  Democrats 
will  remember  that  Thomas  Addis  Emmet,  the  first  attor- 
ney-general of  New  York,  and  who  died  while  pleading 
the  cause  of  a  fugitive  slave,  was  the  friend  of  Jefferson. 


APPENDIX.  517 

American  Republicans  will  not  forget  that  the  President 
of  the  first  Republican  Convention  ever  held  was  Judge 
Robert  Emmet.  American  soldiers  of  the  late  war  will 
think  with  patriotic  pride  of  the  two  brave  young  Em- 
mets, who,  in  the  beautiful  morning  of  life,  in  Meagher's 
Irish  Brigade,  poured  out  their  blood,  that  the  stars 
upon  our  banner  might  shine  with  a  more  triumphant 
splendor. 

And  now  my  last  word  is  to  Ireland.  There  she  lies 
upon  the  western  borders  of  Europe,  rising  from  the 
ocean  fair  and  beautiful  as  a  dream  in  a  maiden's  breast ; 
where  the  Shannon  flows  more  grandly  than  the  Hudson ; 
where  the  mountains  faint  away  from  her  embrace  like 
a  fearful,  willing  womaji;  where  all  nature  is  grand  and 
exquisite;  for  nature  is  always  grand  to  the  unhappy! 
I  believe  that  the  sorrows  of  seven  hundred  troubled 
years  are  about  to  end ;  that  Parnell  will  dig  up  the  foun- 
dations of  Irish  landlordism ;  that  the  accomplished  states- 
man, the  devout  Christian,  Gladstone,  will  unite  the  de- 
mocracies of  both  countries;  that  Erin  will  soon  rise  up, 
clothed  in  radiant  health,  and  sacred  peace,  and  solem- 
nized with  liberty,  an  eternal  union ;  and  may  these  ladies 
of  the  Social  Union,  under  whose  fair  auspices  this  bril- 
liant assembly  has  convened,  yea,  may  all  these  ladies 
present,  live  to  be  the  bridesmaids  at  that  festival  of  liberty, 
patriotism,  independence!  It  is  told  in  Church  history 
that  the  mother  of  Augustine  was  alarmed  at  the  wild 
conduct  of  her  son,  and  in  her  agony  she  cried  to  one  of 
the  fathers,  "Is  there  any  hope  for  my  son?"  The  good 
saint  replied,  "The  child  of  so  many  tears  can  never 
perish."  So  liberty  lifts  her  tear-stained  face  to  the  heav- 
ens, and  asks,  "Is  there  any  hope  for  Ireland?"  The 
voice  of  Eternal  Justice  replies,  "Ireland  will  not  perish !" 
She  will  yet  lift  up  her  scarred  but  stately  brow  among 
the  commonwealths  of  the  world,  redeemed  and  resplen- 
dent with  the  brightest  crown  in  all  the  world  resting 
upon  her  unblemished  brow,  the  crown  of  freedom.  Send 
it  in  my  time,  O  Lord ! 


51 8  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 


IRELAND'S    MARTYR. 

THE  BIRTHDAY  OF  ROBERT  EMMET  CELEBRATED  IN  PHILADELPHIA 

— ELOQUENT  ADDRESS  BY  REV.  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER — 

O'CoNNELL  RECITES  EMMET'S  SPEECH. 

THE  one  hundred  and  seventeenth  anniversary  of  the 
birth  of  Robert  Emmet,  Ireland's  patriot  martyr,  was 
celebrated  by  the  Irish  residents  of  Philadelphia,  March 
4,  1895,  as  it  was  in  almost  every  city  of  the  country. 
The  chief  interest  of  the  day's  observance  centered  in  the 
monster  meeting  at  night  at  the  Academy  of  Music, 
where  Rev.  George  W.  Pepper,  of  Cleveland,  Ohio,  the 
brilliant  ex-chaplain  of  the  United  States  army,  and  late 
consul  to  Milan,  Italy,  delivered  an  eloquent  address  on 
"Ireland!  Liberty  Springs  from  Her  Emmet's  Blood," 
to  an  immense  audience. 

A  full  orchestra  played  the  national  airs  of  Ireland, 
and  the  songs  of  Erin  were  rendered  by  distinguished 
soloists.  Maurice  F.  Wilhere  presided  on  the  occasion. 


It  was  the  proud  utterance  of  a  great  Greek  that  there 
was  a  time  in  Athens  when  there  was  profound  silence, 
and  the  stranger  entering  within  the  gates  asked  the 
reason,  and  he  was  told  that  Demosthenes  was  speaking 
in  the  assemblies  of  the  people.  So  to-night  there  comes 
a  voice  to  us  across  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic,  speaking 
more  eloquently  in  death  than  it  ever  did  in  life — the  voice 
of  the  patriot,  the  hero,  and  martyr — the  immortal  Robert 
Emmet.  This  is  a  consecrated  and  brilliant  scene.  Bril- 
liant though  it  be,  it  is  only  a  mere  sprinkling  of  the  Irish 
millions  who  to-night  upon  earth's  broad  surface  are 
traveling  back  in  living  memories  to  the  spot  which  shel- 
tered the  childhood  and  youth  of  our  hero. 

Let  us  travel  back  to  the  scenes  forever  sanctified  by 
the  presence  and  patriotism  of  the  man  whose  name  to- 


APPENDIX.  519 

night  rises  to  every  Irishman's  lips;  back  to  that  stately 
and  imperial  city  where  his  dying  legacy  has  left  his  name 
without  an  epitaph;  back  to  that  hospitable  and  elegant 
home  in  which  his  youthful  patriotism  was  stimulated; 
back  to  that  college  where  he  acquired  the  eloquence 
which  afterwards  shook  the  British  throne  to  its  founda- 
tions; back  to  the  Historical  Society,  where  he  made  his 
first  speech  in  behalf  of  free  discussion;  back  to  that  old 
Parliament  House,  in  whose  galleries,  when  listening  to 
the  immortal  oratory  of  Grattan,  he  pledged  his  life  to 
the  land  he  loved  so  well ;  back  to  Thomas  Street,  where 
he  offered  up  his  life;  back  to  that  venerable  Episcopal 
churchyard,  where  his  sainted  dust  sleeps  in  the  grandeur 
of  eternal  peace. 

Rise  up,  O  Ireland,  from  the  majestic  Shannon  to  the 
beautiful  Lee,  and  pay  reverential  homage  to  the  memory 
of  Robert  Emmet!  Let  Spain,  the  land  of  illustrious 
memories,  behold  in  her  great-souled  Castelar  the  incar- 
nation of  Ireland's  patriotic  son !  Italy  saw  in  him  the 
spirit  and  the  fire  of  her  republican  Rienzi !  Switzerland 
associates  his  name  and  deeds  with  her  own  Winkelried; 
Scotland,  the  land  of  Bruce  and  Wallace  and  of  Burns, 
will  not  refuse  to  lay  a  wreath  upon  the  memory  of  one 
who  was  as  brave  and  tender  as  her  most  honored  sons. 
Americans,  from  the  waters  of  Massachusetts  Bay  to  the 
yellow  sands  of  California,  will,  in  speech,  in  sermon,  and 
in  song,  forever  unite  his  name  with  her  immortal  rebel, 
George  Washington ! 

Let  us,  in  the  review  of  his  brief  but  brilliant  career, 
contemplate  the  time,  the  cause,  the  martyrdom,  the  man, 
and  the  lessons  of  his  life !  Robert  Emmet  was  born  the 
4th  day  of  March,  1778,  in  Dublin,  the  noble  capital  of 
Ireland.  The  old  earth  in  those  years  was  rocked  by  the 
earth-throb  of  democracy. 

It  was  the  time  of  the  American  Revolution,  when  the 
rebellious  Colonists  flung  to  the  bending  heavens  and  to 
the  listening  earth  the  banners  of  revolt;  when  Sam 
Adams  preached  the  doctrine  that  resistance  to  tyrants 


520  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

is  obedience  to  God;  when  Jefferson  wrote  the  Charter 
of  Independence,  teaching  that  gospel,  grand  as  the 
heavens  stretched  over  our  heads,  that  all  men  are  cre- 
ated free  and  equal.  It  was  the  time  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution, when  the  people  rose  in  heroic  grandeur,  and  sent 
every  royal  pretender,  who  blasphemously  called  himself 
lord,  to  the  scaffold.  Thanks  to  the  brave  Frenchmen 
who  took  advantage  of  our  young  American  Republic 
to  strike  for  liberty ! 

It  was  the  time  of  the  Irish  Volunteers,  when,  in  the 
splendid  dawn  of  her  freedom,  Ireland,  without  hesita- 
tion, without  comprehension,  and  without  a  thought  of 
reward,  rushed  to  arms,  and  eighteen  thousand  of  her 
stalwart  sons  stood  in  line,  with  great  and  sublime  defi- 
ance echoed  by  Nappi  Landy  guns,  demanding  legisla- 
tive independence.  That  act  of  the  volunteers  forms, 
up  to  this  day,  the  brightest  jewel  in  her  proud  historic 
diadem. 

Emmet  was  only  four  years  old  when  the  battle  for 
Irish  rights  was  fought  and  won.  He  must  have  heard 
from  his  revered  father  about  the  story  of  the  eloquent 
war;  how  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants  were  disfran- 
chised because  of  religious  beliefs,  which  they  deemed 
essential  to  their  eternal  salvation ;  how  the  prosperity  of 
the  country  was  ruined  by  the  acts  of  Parliament  prohib- 
iting the  manufacture  of  woolens;  how  the  felt  hats 
weighed  heavier  upon  the  Presbyterians  of  Ulster,  exiling 
forty  thousand  of  them  to  these  shores;  how  the  French 
appeared  upon  the  Irish  coast,  and  the  British  Govern- 
ment could  render  no  aid ;  how  the  volunteers  met  in  the 
old  Protestant  Church  of  Dungannon,  and  proclaimed 
that  no  power  save  the  people  of  Ireland  could  make  laws 
for  the  ancient  nation;  that  the  ships  of  every  nation 
might  enter  the  harbor  of  Ireland;  that  the  infamous 
Penal  Law  should  be  not  overreached.  But,  speaking  of 
Dungannon,  how  many  memories  it  suggests !  Whatever 
may  be  the  disgraceful  condition  of  the  Orange  idols  there 
to-day,  the  past  at  least  is  secure.  Never  in  the  history 
of  poor  Ireland  was  there  a  graver  moment,  and  I  indorse 


APPENDIX.  521 

with    all    my    Protestant    heart    the    patriotic    words    of 
Thomas  Davis : 

"  More  honored  that  church  of  Dungannon  is  now 
Than  when  at  its  altars  communicants  bow; 
More  welcome  to  Heaven  than  anthem  or  prayer, 
Were  the  rites  and  the  thoughts  of  the  warriors  then  there ; 
In  the  name  of  high  Heaven,  the  delegates  swore, 
We  've  suffered  too  long,  and  we  '11  suffer  no  more ! 
Unconquered  by  force,  we  were  vanquished  by  fraud, 
And  now,  in  God's  temple,  we  vow  unto  God 
That  never  again  shall  the  Englishman  bind 
His  chains  on  our  limbs,  or  his  laws  on  our  mind." 


THE  IRISH  PARLIAMENT. 

Never  in  the  history  of  Ireland  was  there  a  brighter 
array  of  brilliant  orators  and  statesmen  than  in  the  Irish 
Parliament.  There  sat  Henry  Grattan,  of  whom  Lord 
Brougham  said:  "He  was  the  first  orator  of  his  age,  and 
it  was  the  age  of  orators."  How  grandly  he  advances  to 
the  task  of  introducing  his  wonderful  declaration  of  Irish 
rights,  and  fifty  thousand  bayonets  were  brought  to  the 
charge  to  enforce  its  passage ! 

"I  will  never  be  satisfied  so  long  as  the  meanest  cot- 
tage in  Ireland  has  a  link  of  the  British  chain  clinging  to 
her  rags.  He  may  be  naked,  but  he  shall  not  be  in  irons ; 
the  declaration  is  planted,  and,  though  great  men  should 
fall  off,  the  cause  shall  live;  and,  though  he  who  utters 
it  should  die,  yet  the  immortal  fire  shall  outlast  the  feeble 
organ  who  conveys  it,  and  the  breath  of  liberty,  like  the 
sword  of  the  prophet,  will  not  die,  but  survive  him!" 

When  these  words  were  uttered,  it  was  a  great  day  for 
Ireland!  There  was  a  spectacle  of  grandeur  rarely  wit- 
nessed. Hark !  listen  to  that  sound,  heavy  and  deep  as  the 
rush  of  the  springtide  upon  the  ocean  beach!  It  is  but 
the  rising  to  their  feet  of  the  Irish  Parliament!  Then  a 
crash,  causing  those  venerable  colonnades  to  reel  as  if  an 
earthquake  shook  them !  Ireland  had  won  her  independ- 
ence !  There  sat  Henry  Grattan,  his  white  hair  encircling 


522  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

him  with  a  crown  of  glory.  When  he  rose  to  speak  every 
whisper  was  hushed,  every  ear  was  attention.  When  he 
sketched  the  war  in  which  the  rights  of  the  people  had 
been  secured,  tears  sprang  to  every  eye. 

There  was  John  Philpot  Curran,  the  polished  dia- 
mond of  the  bar,  whose  eloquence  was  like  the  tempest 
which  shook  the  pine-trees  of  a  continent.  When  he 
asked  in  thrilling  tones  what  shall  be  done  in  case  our 
liberties  are  again  imperiled,  the  hearers  bounded  from 
their  seats,  and  in  their  hearts  they  felt  like  exclaiming, 
like  the  ancient  Hungarians,  "We  shall  die  for  God  and 
our  country." 

There  was  Foster,  the  Speaker  of  the  Parliament,  the 
faithful  friend  of  his  country,  and  proud  of  her  prosperity. 
There  was  Plunket,  when  all  his  words  meant  something, 
who  delighted  all  hearts  by  saying,  "I  will  fling  the  con- 
nection with  England  to  the  winds,  and  clasp  the  inde- 
pendence of  my  country  to  my  heart." 

There  was  Harry  Flood,  whose  defeat  and  triumphant 
tribute  to  America  is  remembered :  "A  voice  from  Amer- 
ica shouted  liberty,  and  every  hillside  in  Ireland  answered 
liberty.  The  echoes  of  Bunker  Hill  rolled  over  the  At- 
lantic, wakening  Ireland  from  her  disgraceful  sleep  of 
centuries." 

There  was  Goold,  the  Patrick  Henry  of  the  Irish  Re- 
publicans. He  had  held  as  with  a  scourge  of  fire  the  ene- 
mies of  his  country.  Listen  to  his  defiant  and  lofty 
periods  as  he  denounced:  "There  are  forty  thousand  sol- 
diers in  Ireland,  and  with  forty  thousand  bayonets  at  my 
heart  England  shall  not  plant  another  Sicily  in  the  bosom 
of  the  Atlantic!  I  want  not  the  assistance  of  divine  in- 
spiration to  tell  me,  for  I  am  enabled  by  the  unerring 
demonstrations  of  nature  to  assert  that  our  country  was 
destined  to  become  free  and  independent.  The  patent 
to  be  a  State  comes  direct  from  heaven.  The  Almighty 
in  majestic  characters  has  signed  the  great  charter  of  our 
independence.  The  God  of  nature  never  designed  Ire- 
land to  be  a  province  of  Great  Britain,  and  by  the  eternal 
God  she  never  shall." 


APPENDIX.  523 


THE  CAREER  OF  EMMET. 

Robert  Emmet  entered  the  University  of  Dublin  in  the 
year  1798,  and  while  there  he  became  a  member  of  the 
United  Irishmen.  Auspicious  event !  Memorable  era !  An 
event  which  marked  him  as  one  of  the  redeemers  of  his 
downtrodden  country.  History  will  give  that  historic  year 
a  conspicuous  place  in  its  imperishable  page,  and  in  the 
coming  years  Irishmen,  enjoying  the  blessings  of  it,  and 
grateful  to  the  heroes  who  sacrificed  life  and  worldly  pros- 
perity for  the  freedom  of  Ireland,  will  do  justice  to  the 
memories  of  those  who  have  been  its  instruments.  It  is 
extravagance  to  anticipate  that  when  a  national  emancipa- 
tion has  been  achieved,  honors  shall  be  done  to  their  mem- 
ories, and  that  spotless  shafts  of  marble  in  the  cities  and 
villages  of  Ireland  shall  proclaim  the  names  of  the  leaders 
of  the  splendid  Protestant  rebellion  of  1798.  Never  did 
the  revolutionary  period  of  Ireland  present  such  a  glo- 
rious assembly  of  patriots,  soldiers,  and  martyrs  as  that 
of  1798. 

I  might  speak  of  Theodore  Wolfe  Tone,  the  founder 
of  that  splendid  organization.  His  masculine  sense,  his 
loving,  fresh  heart  and  powerful  pen  were  a  tower  of 
strength  to  the  cause.  With  his  persevering  appeals  and 
diplomatic  skill  he  rendered  his  country  invaluable  serv- 
ice. He  taught  the  great  lesson  that  union  was  strength; 
that  when  Catholics  and  Protestants  were  united,  the  re- 
sult would  have  shaken  Britain  like  a  moral  earthquake. 
Thousands  of  great  men  of  every  religious  persuasion 
joined  in  a  common  brotherhood.  Glorious  day  when  this 
unity  shall  again  be  seen !  Then  will  the  morning  dawn ! 
Then  will  appear  the  Irish  Republic !  Then,  I  might  speak 
of  the  elegant  and  intrepid  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald.  The 
Almighty  had  raised  him  in  the  terrible  hour  of  war,  when 
his  influence  was  worth  ten  thousand  men  in  strengthen- 
ing and  building  a  national  republican  spirit  among  the 
class  to  which,  by  birth  and  ancestry,  he  belonged.  Re- 
markable both  for  his  filial  piety  and  courage,  he  was 
a  man  of  the  most  noble  and  disinterested  heroism,  whose 


524  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

abilities  fitted  him  to  shine  in  any  position  had  he  not 
chosen  to  cast  his  lot  with  an  impoverished,  heartbroken 
people!  Such  was  the  love  and  reciprocal  respect  that 
this  lofty-minded  man  had  for  his  countrymen,  that  it 
might  be  said  of  them,  as  it  was  once  said  of  that  famous 
Emperor,  Marcus  Aurelius,  that  it  was  hard  to  judge 
whether  he  delighted  more  in  having  such  a  people,  or 
they  in  having  such  a  chivalrous  leader. 

I  might  speak  of  Thomas  Addis  Emmet,  who,  con- 
sidered simply  as  a  man,  was  a  rare  and  perhaps  an  un- 
paralleled specimen  of  human  nature.  He  was  capable 
without  a  struggle  of  taking  the  first  place  in  nearly  all 
the  highest  walks  of  human  greatness.  By  nature  he 
was  a  logician,  an  actor,  and  a  consummate  lawyer;  in 
philosophy  and  medical  law  he  was  a  master.  He  was 
equally  adapted  to  shine  on  the  judgment-seat  in  the 
Senate  House  and  at  the  helm  of  State.  In  my  new  home 
here  this  wondrous  combination  of  prowess,  of  beauties, 
gifts,  and  graces  was  exercised  in  the  vindication  of  jus- 
tice. Is  it  any  wonder  that  such  a  marvelous  man  should 
die  pleading  the  cause  of  a  slave,  and  that  New  York  State 
should  erect  that  monument  to  his  illustrious  memory, 
which  attracts  the  eye  of  every  stranger  as  he  walks  past 
St.  Paul's  churchyard? 

I  might  speak  of  William  Orr,  a  man  of  the  same 
class  as  those  mentioned  in  point  of  talents,  tact,  energy, 
patriotism,  stainless  purity ;  he  was  not  a  whit  behind  any 
of  the  United  Irishmen.  We  admire  his  fidelity  to  re- 
publicanism, and  his  virtues;  his  liberal  and  enlightened 
views;  his  pre-eminent  services  to  Ireland,  and  his  tran- 
scendent charity,  as  he  was  about  to  die  upon  the  scaffold. 
Nearest  to  him  and  by  his  side  stood  a  Roman  Catholic 
servant  man,  faithful  and  attached,  manacled  and  pin- 
ioned. Orr  directed  this  man  to  take  from  his  pocket 
the  \vatch  that  he  had  worn  till  now  that  time  had  ceased 
for  him,  and  hours  and  moments  were  now  no  longer 
to  be  measures  of  his  existence:  "You,  my  friend,  and  I 
must  part.  Our  stations  here  on  earth  have  been  a  little 
different,  and  our  modes  of  worshiping  the  Almighty 


APPENDIX.  525 

Being,  that  we  both  adore.  Before  his  presence  we  shall 
stand  equal !  Farewell !  Remember  Orr !" 

The  death  of  William  Orr  is  one  of  the  noblest  incidents 
in  history.  Writers  of  all  political  parties  agree  in  testify- 
ing that  his  character  turned  into  an  unparalleled  gran- 
deur and  solemnity  upon  the  scaffold.  He  exhibited  that 
Roman  fortitude  which  was  the  perfection  of  humanity, 
and  in  addition  to  it  the  Christian  fortitude  which  tran- 
scends humanity.  We  will  remember  Orr!  When  we 
think  of  the  hallowed  name  of  the  United  Irishmen,  we 
will  remember  Orr!  When  we  think  of  the  persecutions 
which  have  deluged  earth  in  the  holy  name  of  religion, 
and  which  was  the  work  of  England,  we  will  remember 
Orr!  When  we  think  of  the  outrages  perpetrated  by  a 
brutal  soldiery,  we  will  remember  Orr!  When  we  think 
of  the  howl  of  intolerance  raised  by  the  landlords  to  con- 
tinue the  foul  demonstration  of  tyranny,  we  will  remem- 
ber Orr!  When  we  think  of  the  disgraceful  bigotry  and 
virulence  which  would  chill  the  warm  hearts  of  the  Irish 
Presbyterians  towards  their  Catholic  countrymen,  we  will 
remember  Orr !  When  we  think  that  all  popular  modes  of 
coercion  have  been  bred,  the  scaffold,  the  gaol,  in  famine 
and  exile;  when  we  think  of  the  horrible  inhumanity  in 
the  trial  and  execution  of  the  gallant  Manchester  martyrs, 
we  will  remember  Orr ! 

The  speaker  then  described  the  insurrection  in  Dub- 
lin— the  arrest  of  Emmet,  and  his  trial.  The  speech  was 
pronounced  to  be  the  most  magnificent  effort  ever  de- 
livered; magnificent,  eloquent,  thrilling.  It  was  a  noble 
defense  of  Ireland,  a  burning  rebuke  to  the  inquisition 
and  tyranny  of  England.  It  was  clear  in  argument,  ele- 
gant in  diction,  and  contained  some  of  the  most  masterly 
appeals  to  a  jury  that  ever  were  delivered.  It  drew 
tears  from  the  head  lieutenant,  who  exclaimed,  "Justice 
is  too  severe,  and  the  sufferer  is  to  be  pitied."  Lord  Corn- 
wallis  declared :  "Emmet  is  a  lofty  soul ;  he  has  drowned 
the  ignominy  of  his  rebellion  by  the  magnanimity  of  his 
conduct."  Mr.  Pepper  then  described  the  scene  of  the 
execution,  and  his  visit  to  the  spot  one  year  ago. 


526  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

In  closing  his  address,  Rev.  Mr.  Pepper  said :  "When  I 
was  in  Westminster  Abbey  a  year  ago,  there  was  a  tomb 
which  greatly  attracted  my  attention — a  masterpiece  of 
Italian  genius.  The  doors  of  the  sepulcher  are  partly 
opened ;  Death  is  represented  as  slowly  but  surely  advanc- 
ing to  strike  a  female  figure  radiant  in  beauty  and  jeweled 
robes,  reposing  upon  a  shaft  of  marble.  I  gazed  and  pon- 
dered, and  returned  again  to  look  at  the  significant  monu- 
ment. 

"I  was  reminded  that  in  every  throne-room  in  Europe, 
Death  was  concealed ;  but  the  time  was  coming  when  out 
of  all  of  them  the  King  of  Terrors  would  free  his  way, 
and  that  the  old  earth  would  shake  like  Sinai  with  the 
resurrection  of  the  nations  to  republicanism,  to  life  and 
health.  The  movement  will  be  more  stupendous  and 
more  glorious  than  when  the  bones  in  the  valley  put  on 
radiant  flesh.  It  shall  come  to  Italy — beautiful  and  his- 
toric Italy — locked  in  her  sculptured  sepulcher!  It  shall 
come  to  Hungary,  with  the  knife  of  Austria  at  her  proud 
and  beauteous  neck.  It  shall  come  to  Poland,  whose  de- 
votion to  liberty  is  more  sacred  than  the  wedding  ring! 
It  shall  come  to  the  African,  whose  greatest  apostle, 
Douglass,  has  been  laid  away  in  glory  and  in  tears. 

"Animated  by  this  union  of  patriots  in  all  regions,  we 
unite  our  aspirations  in  the  spirit  of  one  of  the  greatest 
of  those  living  Republican  apostles,  and  say :  God  of  Lib- 
erty! Thou  who  didst  lead  the  oppressed  from  Egypt 
and  didst  entomb  the  proud  in  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea ; 
O  God!  who  didst  proclaim  the  dogma  of  Equality  on 
the  sublime  night  of  the  Last  Supper,  and  anointed  it  with 
Thy  divine  blood  in  the  tempestuous  Evening  of  Calvary ! 
God  that  didst  evoke  from  the  depths  of  unknown  seas 
a  New  World,  in  order  that  its  virgin  sire  might  receive 
the  confederation  of  youthful  and  progressive  democ- 
racies; God  who  didst  through  the  obscure  deep  guide 
that  miraculous  ship,  the  Mayflower,  in  which  the  Pilgrims 
journeyed,  and  also  the  Catholics  of  Maryland,  exiled  by 
monarchical  England,  to  found  a  Republic  in  America; 
God  who  didst  shine  with  so  much  glory  in  the  rotunda 


APPENDIX.  527 

of  the  Capitol  in  Washington  when  slavery  was  abolished 
as  on  the  peak  of  Sinai ;  God  of  the  Redemption,  God  of 
the  Washingtons,  the  Emmets,  the  Vanes,  the  Joans  of 
Arc — we,  too,  place  before  Thee  fettered  Irish  millions, 
and  implore  Thee  that  Thou  wilt  not  refuse  them  assist- 
ance to  this  cause,  which  seeks  to  apply  Thy  eternal  justice 
to  human  society,  and  to  realize  Thy  spiritual  kingdom 
on  earth  by  means  of  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity." 

PRESIDENT  McKINLEY'S  ANCESTORS. 

After  paying  passing  tribute  to  the  memory  of  Lord 
Edward  Fitzgerald,  Theobald  Wolfe  Tone,  Thomas  Addis 
Emmet,  William  Orr,  Henry  Joy  McCracken,  and  other 
founders  of  the  United  Irjsh  Society  and  moving  spirits 
in  the  stirring  scenes  of  '89,  who  shed  their  blood  will- 
ingly in  the  cause  of  liberty  and  for  the  independence  of 
their  country,  Rev.  Dr.  Pepper  continued: 

"The  same  story  may  be  told  of  Captain  Francis  Mc- 
Kinley,  who  dedicated  his  youth  and  manhood  to  the 
cause  of  Ireland.  In  his  fresh  and  radiant  youth  he  took 
the  oath,  and  was  soon  elected  captain  of  one  of  the  com- 
panies. He  plunged  into  the  red  sea  of  war,  and  fought 
most  gallantly  for  his  country.  He  was  tall  and  hand- 
some, with  so  much  frankness  and  vivacity  in  his  nature 
that  everybody  loved  him.  Two  of  his  uncles,  because  of 
their  hatred  of  oppression,  had  emigrated  to  the  United 
States,  and  from  one  of  these  uncles  the  distinguished  oc- 
cupant of  the  Presidential  chair  has  descended,  and  the 
lofty  deeds  of  his  patriotic  namesakes  and  relatives  are 
among  the  brightest  glories  treasured  by  the  McKinleys 
of  Ireland — the  sweet  remembrance  that  one  of  their  num- 
ber gave  his  life  to  make  Ireland  one  of  the  common- 
wealths of  the  world.  Captain  McKinley  was  arrested  and 
hanged,  and  his  head  was  seen  suspended  from  a  public 
building  in  Dervock.  The  patriot  was  buried"  in  Derry- 
kigan  churchyard,  and  for  years  pilgrimages  were  made 
to  his  honored  grave.  During  this  centennial  year  hun- 
dreds, if  not  thousands,  of  pilgrims  from  the  United  States 


528  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

will  visit  his  grave  and  the  graves  of  other  United  Irish- 
men of  Counties  Antrim  and  Down.  It  is  such  men  that 
kings  fear,  make  life  illustrious,  and  death  divine. 

JUSTICE  FOR  IRELAND'S  CAUSE. 

"O  Ireland,  my  country !  the  land  of  my  birth,  the  land 
of  my  affections,  the  land  of  my  fathers,  when  will  thy 
wrongs  be  redressed,  thy  sufferings  be  ended,  and  the 
crown  of  thorns  blossom  into  a  crown  of  flowers?  That 
auspicious  day  will  come  when  thy  children  are  united! 
It  will  require  time  and  patience,  education  and  charity. 
Remember  that  the  temper  of  a  people  is  not  to  be 
changed  by  a  wish !  The  disasters  of  seven  centuries  in- 
struct us  that  a  new  method  must  be  tried!  All  Ireland 
wants  is  justice.  The  application  laid  down  for  all  ages, 
'Do  unto  others  as  you  would  have  others  do  unto  you/ 
They  would  restore  to  her  self-government.  Many  of  the 
English  people  have  at  length  resolved  to  try  it.  Justice 
to  Ireland!  This  will  give  a  power  and  a  policy  which- 
England  has  never  practiced,  and  it  will  carry  Ireland  into 
the  hearts  of  the  English  people — a  noble  region  where 
England's  conquerors  have  hitherto  never  trodden. 

"There  is  the  progressive  and  liberal  England  of  the 
democracy;  this  England  we  love  and  cherish.  .And  there 
is  the  England  of  despotism ;  this  England  we  detest  and 
abhor.  This  is  the  England  that  has  plundered  Ireland, 
robbed  India,  and  fought  against  the  United  States. 
Proud  are  we  of  the  accession  to  our  ranks  of  such  men 
as  lead  the  Liberals  to-day  in  England.  What  but  the 
justice  of  the  Irish  cause  and  a  holy  and  irrepressible  love 
of  righteousness  could  have  induced  these  eminent  men 
not  only  to  retire  from  the  aristocratic  association  into 
which  they  were  born,  honored,  and  beloved,  and  to 
forego  brilliant  prospects,  to  link  their  futures  with  the 
despised  and  persecuted  Irish,  representing  a  cause  'every- 
where spoken  against?' 

ENGLISH  BIGOTRY  MUST  DOWN. 

"I  hail  their  championship  with  unspeakable  delight. 
Down  must  come  the  frenzied  bigotry  of  the  English 


APPENDIX.  529 

classes  against  the  Irish  masses!  Down  must  come  the 
prejudices  that  have  so  long  interposed  their  dark  and 
baleful  atmosphere  between  the  two  countries !  Down 
must  come  the  House  of  Lords,  that  for  centuries  has 
listened  in  vain  to  the  trumpet  appeal  of  starved  millions ! 
Let  not  the  Irish  cause,  which  in  1/98  and  1848,  according 
to  Lecky,  was  largely  Protestant,  be  sacrificed  to  the  in- 
terests of  any  religious  denomination.  No !  a  thousand 
times  no  !  No  union  between  Church  and  State !  Let  the 
Irish  remember  England's  old  scheme  to  divide  them  on 
religious  questions.  A  hundred  new  universities,  Catholic 
or  Protestant,  will  not  reduce  the  rent  of  a  single  op- 
pressed farmer,  nor  save  the  life  of  one  beggar. 

"Rather  would  I  see  the  Irish  race  extinguished, — and 
I  speak  the  sentiments  of  true  Irish  Nationalists, — rather 
would  I  see  the  ancient  monuments  leveled  to  the  dust; 
rather  would  I  see  Dublin  a  desert,  the  people  outcasts, 
and  dear  old  Ireland  a  reproach,  than  that  the  land  for 
which  Emmet  died  and  Grattan  pleaded, — that  her  hopes 
and  expectations  should  be  blasted  by  such  treachery. 

"Think  of  Charles  Stewart  Parnell  being  deceived  by 
such  a  trick !  O  that  he  were  living  at  this  hour !  O  for 
his  splendid  leadership !  One  blast  upon  his  bugle-horn 
were  worth  ten  thousand  men !  I  love  his  memory ! 

"The  great  Napoleon  gave  it  as  his  opinion,  when 
chained  to  the  rock  of  St.  Helena,  that  in  one  hundred 
years  Europe  would  be  either  Cossack  or  republican ! 
That  imperial  prophecy  is  being  realized  in  our  day.  The 
old  earth  shakes  to  and  fro  with  the  earthquake  throbs, 
of  revolution. 

"As  one  of  the  champions  of  European  liberty  once 
said  in  a  burst  of  eloquence,  Tut  it  to  a  vote,  and  all  Eu- 
rope, by  an  overwhelming  majority,  would  declare  that 
the  only  gospel  preached  by  the  heavens  and  the  earth 
is  land  for  the  landless,  homes  for  the  homeless,  and  the 
fruits  of  the  earth  to  the  tiller  thereof.' 

"Ireland  must  rely  on  herself.  She  must  watch  the 
hour,  and  strike,  if  necessary,  for  freedom!  Her  young 
men  must  learn  the  use  of  arms ;  they  must  drill,  drill,  drill ! 

34 


53°  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

An  ounce  of  steel  is  worth  a  ton  of  eloquence!  If  all 
Ireland  were  to  go  down  upon  her  knees,  and  shake  a 
petition  into  the  face  of  the  House  of  Lords,  it  would  be 
absolutely  useless.  In  union  there  is  safety;  in  disunion 
there  is  disaster!  In  union  there  is  vigor;  in  disunion 
there  is  imbecility !  In  union  there  is  victory ;  in  disunion 
there  is  defeat  and  disaster." 


CARDINAL  MANNING  AND  OTHER  CELEBRITIES. 

THE  death  of  Cardinal  Manning  called  forth  from  the 
London  Times  the  comparison  of  Manning  and  Spurgeon 
to  the  two  bright  planets  which  at  the  time  appeared  to 
the  eye  of  the  observer  to  approach  each  other  and  almost 
mingle  their  rays  in  the  solemn  evening  sky.  In  like 
manner  two  great  Englishmen,  whose  religious  orbits, 
though  acknowledging  a  common  center,  were  as  really 
distinct  and  distant  from  each  other  as  those  of  Jupiter 
and  Venus, — the  orbits  of  the  two  men,  like  those  of  the 
two  planets,  were  far  apart,  r^ut  they  derived  their  light 
and  heat  from  the  same  source.  Both  were  true  Chris- 
tians ;  both  were  philanthropists ;  both  had  the  confidence 
of  the  poor.  Spurgeon  was  the  representative  of  a  great 
individual  force;  Manning  was  the  representative  of  a 
great  and  splendid  hierarchy.  Spurgeon  was  humorous, 
shrewd,  and  practical,  endowed  with  a  fund  of  invincible 
common  sense.  Manning's  personality  was  equally  re- 
markable, and  a  man  of  high  ecclesiastical  ambition.  He 
was  the  flower  of  Rome  after  he  became  her  champion. 
He  was,  however,  the  heir,  like  Spurgeon,  of  several  gen- 
erations of  men  of  plain  lives  and  pious  ways.  Manning 
was  a  ripe  scholar,  an  accomplished  writer,  a  fluent  and 
impressive  orator,  and  a  social  power.  In  princely  palaces 
and  poverty-stricken  hovels  his  was  a  name  to  conjure 
with.  His  habits  were  those  of  a  hermit.  Thousands  of 
the  poor  people,  whose  cause  he  pleaded,  were  better  fed, 
better  clothed  than  he.  The  staple  of  his  food  was  oat- 
meal bread;  his  only  drink,  water. 


APPENDIX.  531 

I  had  only  one  opportunity  of  hearing  this  famous 
man.  It  was  a  lovely  summer  day;  the  church  was  a 
very  common  one,  and  the  audience  was  equally  devoid 
of  attractions.  They  were  nearly  all  toilers,  and  con- 
trasted sharply  with  the  splendid  robes  of  the  preacher 
and  his  environments.  The  cardinal  would  attract  atten- 
tion in  a  crowd  by  his  imposing  appearance.  He  was  as 
straight  as  a  poplar,  thin  as  a  herring,  hair  white  as  snow, 
his  voice  low  but  penetrating,  his  manner  calm  and  con- 
versational. He  stood  in  the  pulpit  like  a  statue.  But  his 
voice  was  his  great  charm ;  it  retained  all  the  richness  and 
melody  for  which  it  had  been  renowned  sixty  years  before, 
when  he  was  the  star  preacher  at  Oxford  University. 

Lord  Beaconsfield,  in  his  "Lothair,"  gives  a  portrait 
of  him,  which  can  not  be  improved:  "Above  the  middle 
height,  his  stature  seemed  modified  by  the  attenuation  of 
his  form.  It  seemed  that  the  soul  never  had  so  frail  a 
tenement.  His  countenance  was  of  an  extreme  pallor, 
his  cheeks  were  hollow,  and  his  gray  eyes  seemed  sunk 
into  the  clear  and  noble  brow,  but  they  flashed  with  irre- 
sistible penetration." 

I  have  spoken  of  Cardinal  Manning's  lack  of  gesture. 
There  was  not  the  slightest  movement  of  the  body.  There 
was  not  a  single  break  in  the  placid  action  of  his  hands 
and  feet.  I  was  reminded  of  the  incident  which  happened 
the  year  before  in  Edinburgh,  when  an  over-zealous 
deacon  remonstrated  with  his  pastor,  Dr.  Dods,  for  his 
want  of  gestures  in  the  pulpit.  "What  shall  I  do?"  said 
the  divine.  "Stretch  both  your  hands  out  over  the  con- 
gregation." He  did  so,  holding  them  there  for  two  hours. 
At  first  the  audience  was  surprised,  then  horrified.  They 
thought  his  hands  were  paralyzed.  He  was  left  to  pursue 
his  own  way.  No  one  ever  remonstrated  with  him  again. 

An  American  critic  speaks  of  the  distinguished  prelate, 
that  he  is  the  ideal  of  a  man  who  has  just  enough  earthly 
substance  about  him  to  engross  thought.  The  mouth  and 
the  eyes,  as  they  speak,  do  the  work  of  expression ;  yet  the 
face  is  classic  enough  to  charm  a  Greek  sculptor.  The 
eye  it  is  that  withers  with  contempt,  and  it  sends  light- 


532  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

ning  from  an  ever-cloudless  brow.  What  color  have  those 
eyes! — tenderest  blue,  steel-iron.  The  voice  has  a  fine 
range,  and  has  been  thoroughly  trained.  If  there  be  any 
one  who  imagines  that  the  grand  effects  of  oratory  are 
produced  by  lottdness,  he  ought  to  have  heard  Manning, 
and' learn  that  such  effects  are  produced  by  lowness.  He 
would  have  learned,  also,  that  it  is  easier  to  hear  low 
tones  by  reason  of  their  greater  distinctness,  just  as  we 
can  hear  a  violincello  farther  than  the  trombone  beside  it. 

The  tone  of  his  discourse  was  liberal  and  broad.  He 
called  Protestants  "his  separated  brethren."  There  is  a 
fine  passage  in  one  of  Burke's  speeches,  to  the  effect  that, 
as  upon  the  spot  where  volcanoes  existed,  but  have  burnt 
out,  every  fruit  of  the  earth  may  be  grown;  so  when  re- 
ligious animosities  have  ceased,  everything  lovely  and 
divine  may  be  cultivated.  Of  Cardinal  Manning's  tem- 
perance views  many  stories  may  be  told.  The  fact  is,  that 
he  was  not  a  teetotaler  for  years.  Taxed  with  inconsist- 
ency in  Exeter  Hall,  he  explained  that  he  was  under  the 
advice  of  his  doctor  when  he  took  a  little  wine.  "Then 
why  not  change  your  doctor?"  a  voice  inquired  from  the 
meeting.  "I  did  not  think  of  that,"  was  his  reply. 

We  may  apply  to  Cardinal  Manning  the  words  of 
Aquinas,  a  great  authority  in  his  Church: 

"  Si  doctus  est,  doceat  nos 
Si  sapiens  est,  gubernat  nos ; 
Si  sanctus  est,  oret  pro  nobis." 

From  the  cardinal  to  Hugh  Price  Hughes,  the  great 
Methodist  philanthropist,  the  transition  is  easy.  I  never 
saw  a  man  of  such  energy.  Day  and  night,  from  January 
to  December,  in  the  city  and  in  the  country,  his  sten- 
torian voice  is  heard  in  behalf  of  temperance,  in  support 
of  political  reform,  in  defense  of  the  poverty-stricken  mill- 
ions. He  is  now  president  of  the  Wesleyan  Conference, 
an  event  a  few  years  ago  which  would  be  icgarcled  as  im- 
possible, for  Hughes  has  always  been  a  radical  of  the 
radicals.  His  election  last  year  will  be  alvrays  ren?em- 


APPENDIX.  533 

bered  as  memorable.  He  has  the  sympathy  and  support 
of  the  best  men  of  England  and  Wales  and  of  Ireland. 
They  love  him  for  his  bold  and  righteous  protests  against 
wrong  and  injustice;  they  love  him  for  his  frank  confi- 
dence in  his  efforts  to  lift  up  the  submerged  classes;  they 
love  him  for  the  revival  of  the  old  Methodist  chivalry, 
which  still  lives  in  this  intrepid  preacher. 

I  heard  him  one  afternoon  in  St.  James  Hall.  The 
rain  poured  in  torrents;  but  the  immense  building  was 
packed.  The  occasion  was  the  persecution  of  the  Russian 
Christians — called  Stunde — the  German  word  for  hour. 
These  brave  confessors  met  by  the  hour  at  stated  places 
to  worship  God.  They  were  hunted,  arrested,  fined,  and 
imprisoned.  It  was  a  glorious  manifestation,  worthy  of 
the  noble  cause,  and  Hitghes  was  in  the  plenitude  of  his 
glory.  He  first  used  his  logic,  and  then  his  rhetoric;  for 
rhetoric  without  logic  is  like  a  tree  with  leaves  and  blos- 
soms, but  no  root.  That  rhetoric  is  best  which  is  most 
seasonable  and  most  catching.  "Despots  hate  light,"  he 
exclaimed.  When  the  ruffians  seized  these  Russian  he- 
roes at  night  there  was  a  candle  lighted.  "Put  it  out," 
said  one  of  the  officers,  "for  God's  sake !"  "He  ought  to 
have  said,"  continued  the  fiery  speaker,  "for  the  devil's 
sake;  for  God  had  said  at  the  beginning,  'Let  there  be 

light/ ' 

Hughes  is  a  noble  specimen  of  robust  manhood.  He 
is  not  tall  nor  strikingly  picturesque,  but  stout  and  rather 
below  the  middle  height.  When  on  the  platform  he  is 
like  a  steam-tug  of  tremendous  power.  As  editor  of  the 
Methodist  Times  he  did  a  brave  and  gallant  act  in  the  sup- 
port of  Gladstone's  healing  measures  for  the  relief  of  the 
sister  isle.  It  was  this  fearless  action,  in  the  teeth  of  great 
opposition,  that  first  endeared  him  to  Americans.  He 
was  the  first  prominent  religious  editor  to  plant  his  British 
colors  and  his  British  sympathies  with  the  injured  Celt. 
He  is  a  Welshman  with  all  the  fire  of  his  race,  and  there 
is  no  nobler  heart  than  that  which  beats  in  the  bosom  of 
Hugh  Price  Hughes.  In  the  office  of  the  Methodist  Times 
I  met  the  assistant  editor,  Mr.  Crook,  the  son  of  an  Irish 


534  UNDER   THREE  FLAGS. 

Wesleyan  minister,  a  stanch  and  gifted  Liberal,  who  fol- 
lowed his  chief  through  all  his  battles,  and  as  secretary 
of  the  Reform  Club  executed  all  his  orders.  The  Liberal 
party  is  deeply  indebted  to  Mr.  Crook  for  his  indefatigable 
labors ;  they  have  been  equal  to  a  thousand  men. 

I  was  surprised  and  pleased  to  find  that  many  of  the 
sons  of  Wesleyan  ministers  had  risen  to  distinction  in 
Parliament  and  at  the  bar,  refuting  the  common  belief 
that  ministers'  children  are  not  successful.  We  have  an 
illustrious  example  in  the  city  of  Cleveland,  in  the  brilliant 
career  of  Dr.  H.  F.  Biggar,  to  whom  reference  has  been 
made.  He  is  the  son  of  a  Canadian  Wesleyan  clergyman. 
When  a  mere  boy  he  resolved  that  he  would  be  no  shallow 
Cavalier  nor  a  dull  dilettante  pedant  groping  lazily  in 
the  rich  storehouse  of  libraries  without  fixed  purpose. 
Aspirations  after  a  loftier  destiny  and  a  higher  utility 
thrilled  every  nerve  and  burned  all  his  veins.  It  was  a 
favorite  saying  of  the  sages  of  antiquity,  that  the  just 
man  struggling  with  difficulties  in  the  sight  of  heaven 
is  a  noble  sight.  We  are  told  that  in  northern  climes, 
amid  the  eternal  snows,  when  travelers  are  overwhelmed 
with  the  terrible  cold  of  the  frozen  air,  they  are  seized  with 
an  uncontrollable  drowsiness,  to  sink  down  and  die.  Dr. 
Biggar  never  succumbed  to  adversity,  but  through  all  the 
tempests  and  trials  of  early  manhood  he  practiced  the 
wise  old  proverb,  "Help  yourself,  and  Heaven  will  help 
you."  His  success  as  a  physician  has  been  great ;  but  dis- 
tinction in  this  department  has  been  thrown  into  the 
shade  by  his  mighty  achievements  as  a  surgeon. 

I  may  be  pardoned  for  recalling,  in  this  connection, 
a  forgotten  celebrity  of  our  own  country.  Any  one  who 
has  had  occasion  to  look  into  the  stirring  scenes  of  early 
American  Methodism,  may  have  come  across  the  name 
of  the  bluff  and  whole-souled  Dr.  Charles  Elliott.  He  was 
an  Irishman  from  Donegal,  a  scholar,  a  ripe  and  accom- 
plished linguist,  speaking  Greek,  Latin,  and  Hebrew  as 
if  they  were  his  mother  tongue.  In  personal  appearance, 
he  was  not  an  Adonis  by  any  means ;  in  height,  five  feet ; 
a  head  like  a  mountain,  eyes  gray,  and  his  carriage  awk- 
ward and  ungainly.  When  preaching  he  would  occasion- 


APPENDIX.  535 

ally,  when  tremendously  in  earnest,  throw  out  one  leg 
over  the  pulpit,  and  the  preachers  sitting  in  the  pulpit 
where  frequently  in  danger  of  being  thumped  by  his 
hands.  He  was  an  enthusiast  for  education,  and  he  would 
very  often  say  at  Conferences,  when  pleading  for  more 
colleges  and  schools  among  the  primitive  Methodists, 
"When  the  doors  of  Dublin  University  were  shut  in  my 
face  because  I  was  a  Wesleyan,  I  vowed  that  I  would  labor 
all  my  life  to  make  Methodism  have  the  best  colleges  in 
the  land." 

He  was  editor,  college  president,  historian,  and  author 
of  many  standard  volumes.  He  was  a  great  student. 
"Depend  upon  it,"  he  used  to  say,  "there  is  no  such  thing 
as  labor  lost.  Depend  upon  it,  whatever  branch  of  study 
you  pursue,  and  however  recondite  or  remote  its  utility 
may  seem,  a  time  may  come,  and  when  you  least  expect 
it,  that  you  will  derive  practical  knowledge  from  it." 

Dr.  Elliott  was  once  preaching  to  a  country  audience. 
One  of  the  officials  said:  "I  think  he  is  a  smart  man. 
What  a  pity  he  has  not  received  an  education!"  What 
the  prince  of  preachers,  Robert  Hall,  said  of  John  Foster 
may  be  applied  to  Dr.  Elliott,  "He  is  a  lumber-wagon 
loaded  with  gold."  He  preached  well,  but  scattered  ter- 
ribly. 

Dr.  Elliott  could  be  humorous  at  times.  He  was  once 
asked  if  he  were  sanctified.  "Yes,"  he  replied,  "in  spots." 

I  have  frequently  heard  Farrar,  who  preaches  with 
great  simplicity  and  power.  He  feels  in  his  own  soul  the 
power  of  the  truth  which  he  preaches.  Nobody  ever  looks 
at  his  watch  when  he  preaches. 

But  Stopford  Brooke  is  the  great  orator  of  the  London 
pulpit,  and  many  a  delightful  audience  can  bear  splendid 
testimony  to  his  matchless  eloquence. 

I  heard  Stephenson,  a  Wesleyan;  clear,  evangelical, 
and  methodical.  "What  do  you  think  of  that  preacher?" 
"I  did  n't  think  of  him  at  all,  but  of  myself,  and  I  thought 
I  was  a  most  perfect  rascal,"  was  the  reply  of  one  clergy- 
man to  another. 

Dr.  Parker  is  the  Beecher  of  England,  and  preaches, 
even  on  week-days,  to  immense  audiences. 


536  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 


A. FEW  LETTERS  REGARDING  MY  WORK  ON 

THE  WAR,  ENTITLED  "SHERMAN'S 

MARCH  TO  THE  SEA." 

LIMITED  space  prevents  the  publication  of  letters  from 
Ex-Presidents  Grant  and  Harrison,  the  latter  thanking 
me  most  cordially  for  my  services  in  his  election. 

YOUNGSTOWN,  OHIO,  November  26,  1866. 

CAPTAIN  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER, 

Wellington,  Lorain  County,  Ohio : 

My  Dear  Sir, — I  have  read  with  great  satisfaction  your 
book,  entitled  "Sherman's  Campaigns,"  and  find  it  to  be, 
so  far  as  I  am  capable  of  judging,  an  impartial  and  reliable 
history  of  the  most  prominent  engagements  and  cam- 
paigns under  the  leadership  of  General  Sherman  in 
Georgia  and  the  Carolinas. 

If  the  merits  of  this  work  of  yours  are  duly  appreciated, 
it  can  not  fail  to  prove  highly  remunerative. 

With  my  best  wishes,  I  am 

Very  truly  yours,  DAVID  TOD. 

(Ex-Governor.) 

ST.  Louis,  July  9,  1868. 
CAPTAIN  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER. 

Chaplain  of  the  8oth  U.  S.  Infantry, 
Goldsboro,  N.  C. : 

Dear  Sir, — I  was  unable  to  write  you  as  I  promised  at 
Cleveland,  but  I  sent  you  a  message  that  I  would  do  so  as 
soon  as  I  got  to  St.  Louis. 

Since  my  arrival  I  have  cast  my  eyes  over  the  volume 
entitled,  "Personal  Recollections  of  Sherman's  Campaign 
in  Georgia,"  etc.,  and  am  well  pleased  with  it. 

Personal  recollections  of  events  within  the  observation 
of  an  author  are  very  interesting,  not  only  to  the  parties 
themselves,  but  to  the  general  reader,  and  I  am  sure  hun- 


APPENDIX.  537 

dreds  of  officers  and  soldiers  will  peruse  your  volume,  be- 
cause it  groups  these  events  in  a  shape  easy  of  reference, 
-and  with  sufficient  explanation  to  make  them  intelligible. 
With  great  respect,  your  friend, 

W.  T.  SHERMAN,  General. 

COLUMBUS,  November  19,  1866. 
REV.  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER: 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  found  pleasure  in  looking  into  your 
volume  of  "Personal  Recollections  of  Sherman's  Cam- 
paign," and  recognize  in  it  one  of  the  valuable  aides 
menioires,  which  can  not  be  overlooked  when  the  final  his- 
tory of  the  Great  Rebellion  is  written. 

It  has  all  the  raciness  that  personal  experience  gives, 
and  its  full  details  of  army  life,  added  to  its  reliability  as  a 
historic  record,  ought  to  make  it  a  popular  and  attractive 
book. 

Though  written  from  your  standpoint  as  an  officer  in 
the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  you  have  succeeded  in  mak- 
ing it  more  full  than  could  be  expected  in  its  details  of  the 
movements  of  the  other  parts  of  Sherman's  grand  army. 

Very  respectfully  yours,  etc.,  J.  D.  Cox, 

Ex-Governor  of  Ohio  and  Major-General. 

FORT  HARKER,  KANSAS,  August  9,  1869. 
To  THE  REV.  BISHOP  JANES,  Norwalk,  Ohio : 

Reverend  Sir, — I  take  pleasure  in  informing  you  that 
Rev.  George  W.  Pepper,  a  member  of  the  North  Ohio 
Conference,  was  chaplain  of  my  regiment  for  two  years, 
and  that  I  had  an  opportunity  of  judging  of  his  qualities 
as  a  minister  of  the  gospel  and  a  Christian  gentleman. 
I  can  certify  that  he  performed  his  duties  fully  in  accord- 
ance with  the  requirements  of  his  station,  and  to  my  entire 
satisfaction.  He  held  service  every  Sabbath,  and  attended 
the  sick  in  garrison ;  and  in  saying  this  much,  I  may  add 
that  I  know  of  no  position  where  a  minister  is  required 
to  exercise  more  faith  and  perseverance  than  in  the  army, 
where  they  receive  little  or  no  sympathy  from  those 


538  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

around  them.  I  believe  that  Chaplain  Pepper  maintained 
at  all  times  and  under  all  circumstances  the  respect  of  all, 
and  the  dignity  of  his  profession. 

In  addition  to  his  official  duties,  he  rendered  great 
assistance  to  the  Government  in  North  Carolina  as  editor 
of  the  North  Carolina  Standard  and  as  a  public  speaker. 
The  fruits  of  his  labors  in  that  State  in  the  cause  of  edu- 
cation will  continue  to  develop  long  after  our  names  are 
forgotten. 

As  a  man  who  possesses  unusual  powers  of  eloquence, 
scholastic  attainments  of  the  highest  order,  and  who  is 
zealously  devoted  to  his  profession,  I  earnestly  recom- 
mend him  to  your  favorable  notice. 

I  am,  with  great  respect,  your  obedient  servant, 

NELSON  A.  MILES, 

Colonel  $th  Infantry. 
Brevet  Major-General  United  States  Army. 

STATE  OF  NORTH  CAROLINA, 
EXECUTIVE  DEPARTMENT, 
RALEIGH,  March  29,  1869. 

To  CAPTAIN  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER  : 

My  Dear  Sir, — I  regret  to  learn  that,  under  orders,  it 
will  be  your  duty  to  leave  this  State.  My  best  wishes  will 
go  with  you.  One  of  the  first  of  Sherman's  noble  army 
to  call  upon  me  after  you  reached  the  city,  and  having 
expressed  your  confidence  and  friendship,  I  shall  always 
cherish  pleasant  recollections  of  our  intercourse,  and  the 
hope  that  your  future  may  be  as  fortunate  as  your  past 
life  has  been  true  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  Union.  Our 
Republican  friends  of  both  races  will  not  soon  forget  your 
efforts  in  the  cause  of  Reconstruction,  and  the  ability  and 
zeal  which  you  have  displayed  as  one  of  the  editors  of  the 
Standard.  I  trust  a  generous  and  just  Government  will 
properly  appreciate  and  recognize  your  single-minded 
devotion  to  its  interests. 

Wishing  you  many  years  of  prosperity  and  happiness,. 
I  am  truly  your  friend, 

W.  W.  HOLDEN. 


APPENDIX.  539 

UNITED  STATES  SENATE  CHAMBER, 

WASHINGTON,  January  8,  1868. 

Dear  Sir, — I  have  your  note  of  the  7th,  in  reference  to 
the  condition  of  Ireland  and  the  rights  of  American  citi- 
zens abroad.  The  latter  question  has  been,  and  still  is, 
the  subject  of  discussion  between  this  Government  and 
various  foreign  Powers,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  a  satis- 
factory conclusion  will  soon  be  reached.  It  has  already 
been  brought  up  in  Congress,  where  I  took  occasion  to 
declare  the  absurdity  of  the  claim  made  by  England.  I 
regret  the  condition  of  affairs  in  Ireland,  which  is  indeed 
deplorable,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  that  the  subject  is  begin- 
ning to  engage  the  attention  of  English  statesmen. 

Justice  to  Ireland  is  a.British  necessity.  In  every  effort 
for  human  rights,  there  is  but  one  side  for  my  sympathy 
and  aspiration. 

Believe  me,  sir,  faithfully  yours, 

CHARLES  SUMNER. 
REV.  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER,  Goldsboro,  N.  C. 


LETTERS  FROM  MEMBERS  OF  THE  NATIONAL 

COMMITTEE  OF  THE  POLITICAL 

CAMPAIGN  OF  1896. 

CHICAGO,  November  10,  1896. 
REV.  G.  W.  PEPPER,  Cleveland,  Ohio : 

My  Dear  Sir, — The  Republicans  of  this  State  have 
once  more  asserted  themselves,  and  once  again  Illinois  is 
a  State  to  be  proud  of.  In  the  hard  battle  just  over,  we 
feel  that  much  of  the  credit  of  our  success  belongs  to  the 
men  who  preached  the  gospel  of  sound  money  and  sound 
sense  all  over  this  State. 

To  you,  as  one  of  these  speakers,  the  State  Committee 
tenders  its  sincere  and  profound  thanks  for  services  ren- 
dered. 

Congratulating  you  and  all  good  citizens  upon  the 
glorious  victory,  I  am,  sir, 

Very  respectfully,  CHAS.  S.  RANNELS. 


540  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

ST.  Louis,  Mo.,  November  21,  1896. 
DR.  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER,  Cleveland,  Ohio : 

My  Dear  Dr.  Pepper, — Your  good  letter  of  the  i 
received.  I  feel  as  you  do,  that  by  concerted  action  and 
perseverance  we  will  eventually  triumph;  in  fact,  we  in- 
tend to  keep  up  our  organization  throughout  the  State, 
to  the  end  that  we  may  be  able  to  change  the  complexion 
of  our  Congressional  representation  in  1898,  as  well  as  to 
carry  the  State  in  1900. 

I  received  many  evidences  of  your  oratorical  abilities, 
as  well  as  of  the  high  character  of  your  work  in  Missouri, 
and  assure  you  the  same  is  duly  appreciated. 

With  sincere  regards,  believe  me, 

Yours  very  truly,  R.  C.  KERENS. 


MANSFIELD,  O.,  November  25,  1896. 
CHAPLAIN  GEORGE  W.  PEPPER,  Cleveland,  Ohio : 

Dear  Chaplain, — What  shall  I  say?  How  shall  I  tender 
you  in  words  my  thanks  for  your  able  services  in  the  cam- 
paign of  good  Government,  sound  money,  and  protec- 
tion? 

It  was  a  glorious  victory,  and  I  am  glad  that  you  found 
time  and  opportunity  to  participate  therein. 

One  thing  we  know,  the  old  flag  floats,  and  our  friend, 
William  McKinley,  God  sparing  his  life,  is  to  be  the 
Executive  head  of  the  great  Republic.  And  to  you,  and 
the  many  loyal  men  like  you,  is  largely  due  this  happy 
condition  which  is  to  come  March  4th  next.  May  you 
live  many  years  yet,  Chaplain !  And  I  will  know  that  you 
will  look  back  to  1896  with  great  pleasure.  Many,  many 
thanks  again.  Yours  very  truly, 

HENRY  C.  HEDGES, 

With  Speakers'  Bureau. 


APPENDIX.  541 

EXECUTIVE  OFFICE, 
TERRITORY  OF  MONTANA, 
VIRGINIA  CITY,  December  17,  1865. 

My  Dear  Friend, — I  should  have  written  to  you  some 
time  since — indeed,  shortly  after  my  arrival  here — but  I 
forgot  your  address,  and  had  to  wait  until  Mrs.  Meagher 
sent  it  to  me  before  I  could  write  to  you. 

I  write  now  a  few  lines  only — can't  write  more — being 
greatly  pressed  clown  by  official  correspondence  with 
Washington,  this  being  the  busiest  time  of  the  year  for 
that  kind  of  work. 

I  have  n't  time  to  do  more,  in  fact,  than  cordially  write 
you  to  join  me  here  as  soon  as  you  can. 

It  is  a  perfectly  beautiful  and  delightful  country— 
singularly  rich  and  singularly  grand.  Americans  who 
cling  to  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  or  to  the  Mississippi  Valley 
even,  have  little  conception  of  the  wealth  and  grandeur  of 
the  country  they  own.  You  can  not  realize  it  until  you 
traverse  the  plains  or  ascend  the  Missouri  to  its  head- 
waters, and  look  over  it  from  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

You,  my  dear  friend,  would  exult  in  being  here.  It 
is  just  the  country  for  one  of  your  temperament,  your 
intellect,  your  heart,  and  eloquence.  .  .  .  Come  out 
to  Montana,  take  up  and  fence  in  your  one  hundred  and 
sixty  acres,  under  the  Homestead  Act,  in  one  of  our  won- 
derfully fertile,  abundantly-watered,  and  well-timbered 
valleys — and,  my  word  for  it,  you  will  feel  yourself  a  new 
man,  and  an  American  citizen  in  full. 

However,  if  you  desire  to  follow  your  profession — to 
preach,  attend  the  poor  and  sick,  devote  yourself  to  char- 
itable, religious,  and  intellectual  labors — I  promise  you 
that,  so  far  from  being  disappointed  and  damaging  your 
condition,  you  would  be  most  pleasantly  surprised,  and 
your  prospects  brightened. 

We  want  men  of  your  stamp,  your  accomplishments, 
your  facility  of  writing,  and  attainments  in  oratory,  out 
here,  and,  with  such  solid  capital  as  you  possess  in  these 
respects,  you  would  soon  find  yourself  a  substantial  man. 


542  UNDER  THREE  FLAGS. 

Mrs.  Meagher,  in  writing  to  me  the  other  day,  and 
giving  me  your  address,  begged  that  I  would  entreat  you 
to  join  me  in  Montana,  and  that,  as  she  proposes  to  leave 
St.  Louis  by  boat  for  Fort  Benton  early  in  the  spring,  to 
take  up  her  home  with  me  in  this  glorious  young  Terri- 
tory, it  would  delight  her  extremely  to  have  you  and  your 
family  as  her  companions  in  the  journey.  Open  a  corre- 
spondence with  her  right  away,  and  settle  the  matter  with 
her.  I  have  two  or  three  things  for  you  to  do,  for  which 
I  shall  furnish  you  with  abundant  material  and  cordial 
assistance.  Write  immediately,  and  say  you  have  deter- 
mined to  come,  and  believe  me,  as  ever,  most  affection- 
ately your  friend,  THOMAS  FRANCIS  MEAGHER, 

Governor. 


ERRATA. 

PAGE  120. 

In  mentioning  my  first  pastorate  in  Wooster,  I  see  I 
have  unaccountably  omitted  the  names  of  many  kind 
friends.  Among  them  were  the  Blacks,  Taylors,  Logans, 
McClarrans,  McDonalds,  Saybolts,  Marchands,  Timmer- 
mans,  Lees,  Frosts,  Amsdens,  Van  Nests,  Coffeys. 

During  my  residence  there  as  pastor  of  Trinity  Church, 
one  of  my  stanchest  friends  and  helpers  was  Mr.  Alfred 
Coover,  the  Church  treasurer.  I  shall  always  think  of  him 
and  his  gifted  wife  with  feelings  of  gratitude. 

PAGE  267. 

Mrs.  Alexander  Sullivan  does  not  remember  the  witty 
remark  ascribed  to  her  here,  and  thinks  it  must  have  been 
said  by  some  other  person. 

On  this  page  I  see  I  have  omitted  the  name  of  a  friend, 
Hon.  D.  C.  Feeley,  a  ripe  and  accomplished  lawyer,  now 
of  Rochester. 

PAGE  275. 

Instead  of  the  first  McAleavy  mentioned,  the  name 
should  be  McAloon.  I  would  like  to  insert  here  also  the 
name  of  Dr.  Corrigan. 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


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